


Going Home

by Lizardbeth



Series: Asheron [2]
Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Romance, Season/Series 08, Tok'ra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Tok'ra return to Earth and find their future lies in the secrets of Malek's past, and Sam discovers her future is not what she expected...  Part Two of the Asheron Series</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Winner of the Tok'ra Resistance Season 8 Speculation fic contest.
> 
> To head off possible confusion, Ishtar, the Goa'uld queen introduced in my story "Tok'ra Allegiance" is _no_ relation to Ishta, the Jaffa priestess from the episodes "Birthright" and "Sacrifices". Ishtar was a goddess of the Babylonian pantheon, and famous for her role in the epic of Gilgamesh.
> 
> _text_ \-- internal host/symbiote conversation

_Prologue: "We will not surrender,not even in death_"

"Deserts are boring."

Although my comment was not serious, there was some truth to it in this case. The desert around the Stargate on Tlepadi was nothing but dull gray rocks and tan sand, with a few small, spiny gray cacti scattered as far as the eye could see. The sun in the sky was hot and bright, and even the sky seemed grayish with the sand in the air. Our brown Tok'ra uniforms were probably visible for kilometers.

Jacob was always good with a quick response and he didn't disappoint. "What more do you want? A circus and dancing girls?"

I replied, "The dancing girls would be nice. But since we're going to have to go back to desert uniforms if we come here, I'm afraid they would all flee in horror."

Jacob laughed. "Such are the sacrifices we make for the cause."

In my head, Malek pretended affront. _'The Tok'ra desert uniform was designed through extensive study.'_

"Extensive study by whom?" I asked aloud, so Jacob and Selmak could share. "A committee of blind Unas?"

Jacob answered blandly, "No. By Anise."

That made all four of us laugh. It felt good -- there were not too many opportunities to laugh these days.

Still, I had to defend her a little. "You really shouldn't talk that way about one of your defenders, Jacob. Without her support, I am not sure I could have kept Delek at bay as long as I did."

Jacob sobered and glanced at me, slowing his steps. "I never really thanked you for that, did I? You risked your own position as well."

I shrugged, now a little uncomfortable. I hadn't done it for Jacob's thanks, after all. I had worked against Delek because he was wrong.

_'And because the accusations he was leveling against Jacob and Selmak could eventually be used against us as well,'_ Malek reminded me.

True. Delek complained that Jacob had too much influence over Selmak. And since I was generally more outspoken than Malek, the same accusation of 'excessive influence' could come against us too. Which was ridiculous, of course. No one could seriously accuse me of any other allegiance than the Tok'ra. But the same was not true of Jacob. Delek had been very persuasive that Jacob's attachment to the Tau'ri was warping Selmak's priorities. Which was also ridiculous. The Tok'ra and Tau'ri shared the same goal, even if we pursued it slightly differently. But certain members of the council refused to see the bigger picture. It was amazing how my beloved symbiote friend had been spawned in the same batch as that Goa'uld-ish power hungry fool Delek, since they were nothing alike. "At least all that nonsense is behind us."

"I still wish you'd been able to block this recall," Jacob said. "Which idiot proposed it?"

I sighed. "Thoran, who do you think? But Anise and I didn't fight it."

"What? Why the hell not?"

"Jacob, how long do you think the Tok'ra would have continued, with all the forces and beliefs and issues pulling us apart?" I asked. "How long until certain council members' short-sightedness would destroy us, without the help of our enemies? Or until beliefs like Delek's about who we are and what we should be, spread beyond all hope of saving what Egeria believed in?"

He was silent. I knew that Jacob understood what I was saying.

For a moment we walked over the sand in silence.

"I never wanted us to be so vulnerable. The risk of bringing us all together was too high." I stepped over a cactus carefully. I had already stepped on one and discovered the spine was sharp enough to penetrate the sole of my boot. It had taken Malek three minutes to stop lecturing about carelessness, even while he healed it. The next lecture was likely to last _hours_. So I was now very cautious about my footing.

I continued, "But if it was inevitable, then I had to use it to get what we wanted. And I was right. The majority do _not _agree with the direction the council's been taking. Faced with a break in our ranks, the others finally acknowledged the truth. And you, my friend," I glanced at him with a bit of a smile, "get the unenviable task of restoring relations with the Tau'ri."

He snorted. "At least I get to go back and see the kids."

I felt his gaze on me, as we headed back to the Stargate, which was the only thing in the landscape that was interesting at all.

Finally Jacob said what was on his mind. "You're really pretty good at this political stuff. What the hell were you before you met Malek? Selmak doesn't know."

For a moment I was tempted to tell him. Jacob was my friend, and I knew he could keep a secret. But he's heard stories about me, without knowing they were about me, and I knew that if I said too much he might connect it together and figure out the whole truth. Not even for Jacob, did I want to look at those memories again.

"I ran a rebellion against the Goa'uld who ruled my planet," I answered carefully. It was a fairly common story among Tok'ra hosts, who tended to be rebels against the Goa'uld, victims of the Goa'uld, or like me, both.

_'It happens to be true,'_ Malek observed.

_'It was also a dismal failure,'_ I retorted.

Before Jacob could ask which Goa'uld and make me lie to him or Malek could say something well-meaning, I went up to the dialing device. "We are going to recommend moving here, right?"

Jacob gave the Tau'ri positive hand sign, of his thumb pointed upwards. "Bad clothes or not, I think it's better than staying on Mekardin. The people are friendly enough, but it only takes one."

I started pressing glyphs for Mekardin. One hundred sixteen Tok'ra, all that was left of the thousand of Egeria's children, had flung themselves on the mercy of the Mekardin people, who had long been Tok'ra allies. They were a good people, farmers and fishermen, who had been caught between Apophis and Cronus for thousands of years. They hated the Goa'uld with a religious passion.

But Jacob was right. It would take only one to betray us, and I did not discount the possibility that betrayal might come from one of the Tok'ra. The others did, roughly denying the very possibility at a time when we were so desperate, but I knew better. People, even Tok'ra, can do very selfish things when they are desperate or afraid. I did not forget Cordesh, who had betrayed the council to Apophis. Garshaw believed that he had been coerced in some way, perhaps been a za'tarc before we knew there were such things. Perhaps it was true, but we had no way to know. Regardless, Anubis had already proven to be very capable at extracting information from those who would never have otherwise revealed it.

So, at my instigation, we had been exceedingly careful, telling no one in the field about the extraction or the final destination until it was done. Everyone had been searched for communication devices and all ships had been scanned for anyone wearing an invisibility screen.

It wasn't just our safety I worried about. Our presence put the Mekardins in danger as well.

I put my hand on the activator and the wormhole opened. Jacob waited for me on the steps so we could go through together.

We stepped out, and I immediately choked on dust and smoke in the air. While coughing, I looked around, trying to figure out what had happened.

It was really all too horrifyingly clear. All of our precautions had been futile.

Once there had been a thriving settlement of some five thousand people nestled beside a picturesque half-circle cove. Their fields were on the bluff around the Stargate and they had their ships to fish and trade with other settlements along the coast. It had been a prosperous town, in part thanks to the technical improvements that the Tok'ra had introduced.

But all that was gone. Some of the wooden buildings had been blasted apart, others were still burning. Still others were buried, in the collapse of the tunnels beneath them. The wharf was also gone, and the bits of wood floating there suggested some large wave had come and smashed it and all the boats there.

"What the hell?" Jacob murmured, shading his eyes with his hand.

"An attack." And one, by the silence, that I feared was all too effective. I started to run down the path toward what remained of the village. Jacob followed.

Later, it would occur to me that we should have reconnoitered a little more before heading in there. But whatever had happened had not happened long ago, and we still hoped to find survivors.

We stumbled across our first dead, townspeople lying across the path, as though they had tried to flee. They had been shot in the back, by what looked like a staff blast. We came across four more, also shot in the back while fleeing. Then we found our first Tok'ra.

Billin, my security chief. He and his host were dead, blasted also, and half-buried in the beams of a fallen building. He held a zat in his hand, as though he had been firing at the enemy when this had happened.

But there were no enemies on the ground.

A little further along, I found another Tok'ra, this one blasted in the face so I wasn't sure who she had been. She too had a zat in her hand.

Malek and I were growing more nervous. This was not an ashrak. Ashraks prided themselves on efficient, clean kills. This was messy, like a Jaffa attack. But Jaffa did not usually take their own dead with them, and I found it hard to believe there had been none.

"Malek!" Jacob's alarmed voice brought us running.

Sometimes I hate being right. It had been neither an ashrak nor Jaffa.

At Jacob's feet lay one of the black-suited kull soldiers of Anubis that now belonged to Baal. There were two dead Tok'ra nearby, one carrying the only weapon that worked against the kull. I grabbed the weapon before going to him. The charge was only twenty percent on the power supply.

"Baal," Jacob snarled and kicked the drone at his feet.

I flinched, half-expecting it to rise. It didn't move, and I relaxed slightly, "Yes. Baal. Somehow --"

A sound behind us made us both whirl around, and I raised the weapon to point it down the street. One of the buildings on the right side was now a pile of timber, and next door, smoke was creeping out from beneath the tiles of the smithy roof, suggesting its roof beams were smoldering. But I saw nothing which had obviously made the noise.

_'Perhaps some rubble settling,'_ Malek suggested hopefully. But I knew he really didn't believe it. He thought there was another drone out there. We had seen enough death between the two of us, to know that the kull which the pair of Tok'ra had killed, had not killed them.

"Maybe it was a survivor," Jacob suggested, but in a very low voice that suggested he doubted it. "We should go see."

"After you," I invited, not moving.

"You're the one with the gun."

"So I can cover you."

"Yeah, right." He drew his zat and held it ready as we moved off. "God, I hate this," he muttered.

We found more dead. Mekardin and Tok'ra all together, and all dead. They had tried to fight, but for nothing.

_'No!'_ Malek froze my step, to keep my foot from falling on something in the ground and I looked, to see what he had noticed separately. A symbiote was lying dead, limp in the dust. A glance to the right, no more than an arms length away, was Delek's unnamed, unknown host, impaled on a house beam that had gone flying in an explosion.

We found another drone, dead. Anise was not far away with another of the weapons beside her. Her hand moved. At first I couldn't believe it, then I rushed over to her. "Anise!"

"Not enough..." Freya whispered, her large eyes even larger by shock. "Malek..."

Her hand moved again and I took it in my own. "Freya. I'm here, with Jacob." Some found Anise and Freya difficult, since Anise could be extremely single-minded. But I had found them loyal allies and friends. Without Anise I could never have handled the council at all.

"Kull," she whispered.

"We know. How many?"

"Ten."

Jacob swore behind me, but I paid no attention.

Her hand spasmed on mine, pain lining her beautiful face. "Anise is hurt too..." she managed. "We're dying."

"Oh, Freya, I'm so sorry..."

"... breached the tunnels... not enough weapons... all gone, Malek. Everyone." Her voice faded, sorrow replacing the pain.

Long ago Freya had come to me, sensing my grief. She is open about intimacy, it is the way of her homeworld, and she offered one night of solace and forgetfulness. I wanted to accept, even Malek urged me to accept. But I could not. Instead of becoming offended, she sat with me all night long, while we watched the waves in the moonlight. And she had sung softly, and never had spoken a word about the tears on my face. We had been friends ever since.

And now she was dying.

"Please, tell me..." she requested hoarsely, "your name."

I could never refuse a dying request, even though Garshaw was the only Tok'ra who had ever learned my name or history. So I leaned forward and whispered in Freya's ear. "Asheron, son of Marthudor the Fifth of Naritania." She smiled faintly, satisfied, and then I sang softly, the same lullaby she had sung to me, until she was gone.

I laid her hand on her chest and closed her eyes. Grabbing her weapon, I checked it, to find it was even lower on power. I threw it to Jacob and stood. "We should leave here."

"Sel wants to find Garshaw," he said reluctantly.

_'As do I,'_ Malek added, subdued. _'Anise may not have been correct that everyone is dead.'_

He was trying to hold on to hope, and I didn't want to crush it. I kept my doubt as much to myself as I could, but I saw very little likelihood that the drones had left anyone alive. If they had breached the tunnels and methodically killed all that they ran across, then the only true hope was that some had escaped through the Stargate. But I didn't think that was likely either -- it appeared that the Tok'ra had stayed to try to protect the Mekardin.

_'They cannot _all_ be dead,'_ Malek insisted. _'They cannot.'_

_'I hope you're right.'_

As Jacob and I went through the rest of the ruins, I was less and less hopeful. When we found Garshaw, Thoran, and Per'sus all together I knew Anise had been right. The Tok'ra had been overwhelmed by the enemy. Garshaw still held one of the kull weapons in her hand and there were two dead kull before her, but her weapon was out of charge. There had been a third, who had slaughtered them.

Jacob and I stood for a moment, letting our symbiotes mourn. Malek withdrew from me, until I could barely feel his presence, but his shock lingered.

It was an effort to speak. "Jacob, we need to go." He nodded slightly, but didn't move.

When he spoke, he said, "Three-nine-four-two-two." At my utter incomprehension, he pulled the Tau'ri device to open their protective iris from his pouch and wrapped it around his wrist. He repeated the string of numbers again and added, "Just in case. One of us has to make it to Earth."

I nodded.

He inhaled a deep breath. "Okay, let's go."

The fire was starting to catch hold of the buildings of the central square and spreading. We had to dodge some flying embers, and the smoke was thick.

From within the burning main hall, I heard a crash, as if some timbers had fallen. Instinctively, I whirled, nerves rubbed raw by this place of death.

There was tall, dark shadow in the midst of the fire, a shape that was walking through the flames untouched. It was coming this way.

A drone. Its hand lifted, even before it cleared the flames. "Jacob, go!" I shoved him in the back, hard, and followed, diving out of the way of the blast.

Heat passed harmlessly behind me, and the steps up to the sweet shop exploded.

Rolling on the ground once, I pushed to my feet and started to run. Jacob had caught his balance from my shove and was in front, making directly for the Stargate. Two streets up, he swerved so abruptly I nearly ran into him. "There's another one!" He grabbed a handful of my tunic and yanked. The blast passed to the side, and I caught a glimpse of another kull warrior in front of us.

We dashed down the side street, hoping to evade them long enough to get to the path to the Stargate.

The "good" things about the drones are that they are stupid and slow. But the really bad things about them are that they are all but indestructible and they are relentless. I was really hoping we could work the first two to our advantage along with our weapons, or we were going to join the rest of our brethren.

A blast striking somewhere behind us gave warning that one of them had entered the street.

I followed Jacob in a sharp right turn between buildings. He asked as we ran, "Do you think we can take both?"

"If we can get to the Stargate, we won't need to."

"There's no cover getting there," he objected.

He was right. The lack of cover around Stargates was a useful thing when enemies came out of the gate, but not when your enemies were already there. Worse, the path up the bluff had no cover either, just stone retaining walls up to the knee. So if we wanted to get to the Stargate, we would have to at least slow them down.

We ran a random course between houses and through gardens, skirting the collapsed areas, until I was pretty sure we had lost them. Unfortunately, the drones were patient and probably smart enough to realize we had nowhere to go but the gate.

Jacob and I rested against the side of a house. We had circled back toward the central square, and the smoke from the fires was thicker there.

Jacob peered around the corner into the square. He ducked back and whispered, "They're both coming from the west."

West was the direction of the Stargate, which put us against the fire spreading behind us. We had no choice but to take them on now.

"We wait and shoot," Jacob whispered. "I'll take the left."

I raised my rifle and nodded.

Jacob's 'plan' smelled of desperation and I generally hated desperate plans. But then again, they had worked for me before, so maybe this would too.

Jacob gave a silent count of five on his fingers. At zero, we both leaned out, rifles extended.

I found my target on the right, but I held back to see the effectiveness of Jacob's shot. At such low power, I wasn't sure his weapon would penetrate the drone's armor.

It didn't. The blast sparkled and flowed across the surface of the black armor, rocking it back a step, but didn't stop it.

Jacob fired again and I added my firepower to his.

But both were firing back now. They have generally terrible aim, but as with any rapid fire weapon, accuracy isn't all that important. They just keep firing until they hit their targets.

The drone on the left faltered and fell.

We ducked back behind the corner, as the other drone fired our way. I shoved Jacob to make him go.

The wood at my back exploded. I was thrown to hands and knees by the force of the blast, slivers of wood like knives striking my back.

"Malek!" Jacob yelled in alarm.

"I'm okay. Hurry, back that way," I called back. Straightening to rise, I nearly fell over again. My skin felt on fire. Then, the blessed relief like cool water spread from my spine as Malek did his magic. I got to my feet and raced after Jacob.

_'The wounds are mostly superficial,'_ Malek said. _'But there is one splinter lodged deeply just above the shoulder blade, restricting our range of motion. But do not remove it until we are safe -- it will bleed profusely.'_

_'Safe. Right. Wherever that might be.'_ There was a family of Mekardins lying in the alley, including a toddler still clutched in his mother's arms, beneath her body where she had tried to shield him. Once I saw that, I couldn't pass by, I had to know if he was alive. I knelt down, pushed the mother over, and reached down to touch the little one. He was cold and so terribly still. We were too late.

"Malek, come on!" Jacob shouted from the end of the block.

I stood and pulled my zat'nik'tel, firing it three times at the boy and his family, until there was nothing left. Only then did I hurry after Jacob.

With at least one drone still alive and very low charges left on the weapons, it was not likely that we were both going to escape through the Stargate. There was no question in my mind which of us it should be.

Jacob had a family on Earth, two children and two grandchildren who loved him and would miss him if he never returned. I had no one, no ties to anywhere or anyone but the Tok'ra.

Malek knew it too. _We will get Jacob and Selmak to Earth,_ he promised. We were completely as one in that moment, determined to do whatever was necessary to help Jacob reach Earth. If only one could live, better that it be one who had more to live for.

Not that I was eager for death. I had fought death for too long to give up now, but Malek just wanted our deaths to mean something. We were Tok'ra, and sacrifice had always been a possibility.

With the rest gone, it seemed more probable than ever.

Jacob and I paused on the western outskirts of town, near to the path to the Stargate.

"Do you have any charge left at all?" I asked him, in a low murmur, trusting to symbiote-enhanced hearing for him to hear me. We didn't know exactly where the drone was, and I would rather not find out the bad way.

He grimaced and raised the weapon for me to see the power supply gauge. It read barely two percent -- not enough to sting one of the drones. But maybe we could use it another way.

I held out my hand for the power supply which Jacob gave me with a frown. I tucked it in my pocket. I knew that putting the power supply on overload would not do any more damage, but one never knew when a good explosion would be useful.

Jacob set down the useless weapon and glanced around the next corner. "It's there," he confirmed in a whisper.

I peeked too, and saw the drone standing in the middle of the street, before it became the path up the slope to the bluff with the chappa'ai.

"They're like the damn Terminator," Jacob muttered.

I frowned at him, and he waved off the tacit question. "Earth film. Never mind." His gaze met mine.

Before he could speak, I laid out the plan in a murmur near his ear. "I should have enough to put it down. But not enough if there is another one nearby. Get in place behind it, and when it's down, run for the gate and dial out. I will follow."

Jacob frowned suspiciously at me, and glanced down to where my fingers casually covered the power gauge. He knew me too well, the Tau'ri general. "No stupid heroics, right?"

"Of course not," I answered, confidently. "If you have a better plan..." The best way to lie is to tell as much of the truth as possible. I never said I could _kill _the drone, because I was not at all sure that I could. But I could distract it long enough for Jacob to get up the path and escape.

"No, I don't." He searched my eyes and added softly, "I don't know if Sel could take being the last. So please ... make it to the gate."

I put a hand on his arm. "Jacob, go. Five minutes."

He nodded and left to get into position, glancing back once. I raised my hand, smiling slightly to encourage him, but I wasn't sure he was fooled or not.

_'Unlikely,'_ Malek commented, and I was glad to 'hear' something from him. His numb withdrawal was worrying. _'But he will know that it must be done.'_

I settled into a crouch at the corner and breathed slowly and deeply to ready myself for combat. My father had taught me the technique when he'd first brought me to stand beside him in formal audiences, so I wouldn't embarrass him by fidgeting nervously.

My adrenaline level was still high, so the enforced calm tightened my focus. With heightened senses, I could hear the fire to my right, crackling hungrily at the wood, and the breeze blowing most of the smoke out to sea.

The thought brought a reflexive cough, but Malek suppressed it.

Finally, five minutes passed and it was time to move. Hopefully, Jacob was ready.

Every shot had to count, since I had no power to waste.

I extended my weapon beyond the corner, sighted the ugly drone, and fired.

My first shot took it entirely by surprise, and it rocked backward under the barrage. It turned toward me, and I had a better target at its chest.

Everything then seemed to happen so slowly.

I continued firing, but it raised its arm to return fire. That volley went wide and short, but mine were on target. Despite that, it took two steps closer and its aim improved.

I didn't move. I saw Jacob, behind it, scrambling into the open and up the path. I kept firing, keeping the drone fixed on me.

It stumbled and went down to one knee, still firing back and still missing.

My weapon emptied, directly into its head. It jerked and toppled over like a tree.

But not before its last shot slammed into me, spun me around, and into the opposite stone wall.

The breath rushed out of me at the impact, as the world grayed out. Instinctively, believing it was the end, I called out for Malek. I didn't quite pass out though, clutching to some tendril of awareness, which I regretted the moment I opened my eyes and the shock wore off.

I was slumped against the stone wall, and everything hurt. Just breathing sent stabbing pain all through my body, especially the side of my head which must have struck the wall.

And it wasn't going away. It wasn't easing, because I couldn't sense my symbiote at all.

In a sudden, complete panic at the absence in my mind, I yelled aloud, "Malek!"

He suddenly was there, and sent love and comfort across the bond, but could only speak shortly, _'Trying to keep us from dying.'_ And he was gone again.

That was ominous. As I lay there, I tried to catalog what was so wrong. The worst pain came from my left side. Looking for the wound was a mistake -- when I saw the cooked and mangled meat of my shoulder, the agony flared and I nearly passed out again.

Through everything, I remembered that I was easy prey if the drone wasn't actually dead. But the reminder wasn't quite enough to motivate me to look.

I told myself that I had felt worse than this before, and I hadn't had Malek there to help. I wasn't alone now. The thought helped, and I forced myself up to my knees to look in the direction of the street.

The drone lay unmoving in the packed dirt.

I glanced above and saw Jacob at the top of the path, looking back down at me. I tried to lift my other arm to wave.

But I stopped the motion, catching my breath with a hiss. The splinter embedded in my back was still there, and its sharp stab contrasted roughly with the nauseating throb in my shoulder.

Keeping a wary eye on the drone, I climbed to my feet, feeling each one of my fifty-eight true years. My vision swam and I had to rest a moment before moving.

I kept my distance from the drone. It still had not twitched and so I presumed it was dead, but unlike Jacob, I felt no need to prove it to myself by kicking it in the ribs. I started up the path slowly, wishing that Malek would fix the dizziness, but he was too busy trying to keep physical shock from taking over our body.

So focused on putting one foot in front of the other, I needed several seconds to realize that Jacob was shouting. "Malek! Run!"

Like an idiot, I turned to see why, instead of just running.

The drone was on its feet, turning and looking for me.

I glanced up the path to see Jacob still there, crouching beside the little walls to get as much cover as possible. "Dial the gate!" I yelled, but he didn't move, just gestured me to hurry.

Anger as much as fear made me lurch into a fast walk. Jacob Carter had been a general and far more used to giving orders than taking them, but he had better dial the gate or we were both dying here.

The drone fired, but its poor marksmanship and distance kept me safe as I reached Jacob. He stared in alarm at my shoulder and grabbed for my other arm as if to help, but I shook him off.

"We'll live. Open the chappa'ai, Jacob. It's following."

One glance showed I was right but he still lingered. "Don't get killed," he ordered, and finally went.

As I followed him, more slowly, I took out the power supply and made a few adjustments to set it to explode.

But no more shots were coming my way, I realized and looked to see why.

The drone was now tracking toward Jacob, instead of me.

"Jacob!" I screamed in warning, but too late.

The blast hit him. For one moment, his arms went out as if to hold himself up on the wind, but then he toppled out of my sight.

"Jacob!" My yell was echoed within by Malek. _Selmak!_

It spurred us to a run, praying they weren't dead.

His wound looked bad, square in the middle of his back. He still had a pulse, when I checked, but it was a fragile, unsteady beat.

He needed help and I couldn't give him any, not with that drone behind us.

Heedless of my injury, I hurled the power supply down the path, hoping its overload and explosion would delay our enemy.

Then I bent to grasp Jacob's wrists with my own and started dragging him toward the gate. I could feel the splinter shifting and cutting deeper with every step, and my opposite shoulder burned. _Get Jacob to Earth,_ I ordered myself, again and again, in a litany to beat back the threatening dark. I had to get him home. That was all that mattered.

The power supply blew up, sending up a shower of dirt and rocks somewhere behind me. I hoped the drone had been buried or at least thrown backward, but I had only bought a little time at most.

I set Jacob down and ran to the dialing device, punching the glyphs for Earth as quickly as I could. My hands nearly refused to cooperate, shaking with strain, but I finally managed to put my hand on the activator dome. The wormhole opened, and I hurried back to Jacob, grabbing his unconscious arm and keying in the code.

Not waiting for any confirmation, if there was supposed to be one, I took hold of Jacob again and dragged him toward the gate. I could feel Malek distantly, working to help as much as he could, but each step was doing more damage. He was overwhelmed.

Sweating and dizzy after mounting the three steps to the platform, I had to stop. I couldn't catch my breath, and I was trembling so hard it was a struggle just to stay upright. But there was no time to rest. The drone emerged into the far end of the clearing.

It walked nearer with measured, implacable steps. It raised its arm.

I shoved Jacob into the wormhole, not gently. But I had to make sure that he entirely passed through.

I collapsed to my knees, my breath coming in gasps and unable to see with the black spots clouding my vision. The drone was going to kill us. But at least Jacob was safe.

_'No,'_ Malek's presence suddenly returned, bright and clear as the sun in my mind. _'We must tell the Tau'ri to close the iris.'_

Or the drone and its weapons fire could come through. He was right. The task was not yet finished.

I let myself fall backward into the event horizon, rolling to make sure that all of me entered. The cold of the wormhole was pleasantly numbing, as it carried me toward Earth to safety.

Unless the Tau'ri no longer recognized Jacob's code, in which case we would shortly disintegrate against their protective iris.

_'If this is the end, Malek, I'm glad I've spent these years with you.'_

The feeling of his presence was a gentle warmth wrapped around my entire being. _'I treasure each moment we have spent together, beloved Asheron,'_ he answered. _'We face the end together.'_

_'Never alone,'_ I repeated the promise he had made to me right before our blending.

_'Never alone, never again.'_

The wormhole carried us into blinding bright light, and together we waited calmly for whatever came next.


	2. Buried Secrets

The klaxon went off, and Sergeant Davis reported what Sam could see very well for herself, "Unscheduled incoming traveler."

The iris closed and she waited.

It still felt a little odd for her to be standing, rather than sitting at the computer, but she was ranking officer on the floor, since O'Neill was up in the infirmary with the injured members of SG-12.

"Colonel," Davis turned to look up at her, his eyes wide behind his glasses, "Receiving Tok'ra IDC."

"Tok'ra!" she blurted. Her dad. She was already halfway to the stairs when she remembered to order, "Open the iris. And call the general."

Tok'ra. It had been almost a year since her dad had left with the rest of the Tok'ra. Sam had only heard about them since in tales from rebel Jaffa about Tok'ra extracted from their assignments in Goa'uld palaces and ships who then vanished. That news had let the SGC guess that all the Tok'ra had been recalled, presumably to regroup and rethink their strategy.

She rounded the door at a run, finding the iris open and the wormhole shimmering. One brown-clothed Tok'ra plummeted through and collapsed to the ramp. A second fell through and rolled, a blast of weapons fire passing above him. He shouted, "Close it! Close it!"

The symbiote's voice seemed to freeze everyone, but Sam had identified them both, and she echoed him, "Close the iris!" The instant it closed, she rose from her crouch and ran to the ramp, pushing the SF's out of the way and ordering them to stand down.

She reached the one who had spoken, just as he was coming up to his knees. "Malek, are you okay?" she asked. It wasn't an idle concern -- he looked awful. His face was streaked with what looked like ash and blood. Worse, his shoulder had been hit by what looked like a staff blast, and the back of his tunic was shredded and dark with blood.

He waved her off. "See to Jacob."

She continued up the ramp, to where her father had yet to rouse. "Dad? Dad? Selmak?" There was no answer, as she knelt beside him. What she saw made her yell for a medical team.

Her father had been hit in the back by the same type of blast. Her fingers sought his pulse, but they were trembling so badly she couldn't find it.

"Major Carter," Malek said from behind her, his voice seeming to come from a long way off. "If you have a healing device, it is not yet too late. I can help him."

Healing device. Yes. She turned her head enough to shout. "Somebody bring the hand device. NOW!"

She heard O'Neill's confirmation from the doorway and sagged, glad that she could now ignore everything but her father.

"Well, well, long time no see, Malek," O'Neill greeted. "What the hell happened?"

Sam listened to his answer, curious, even while she wondered why the healing device was taking forever.

"It is a long story, O'Neill, involving betrayal, Goa'uld, the kull, and far too much death," Malek answered wearily.

"Are we gonna get a bunch more of your people coming in as refugees?" O'Neill asked.

Malek didn't answer right away, and when he did, it was his host's voice, soft and sorrowful. "No. There are no others."

"What?" O'Neill demanded. "You mean --"

Sam had to turn around at that, in time to see Malek take hold of the rail and turn away. The host answered, "They are all dead, O'Neill. Selmak and Malek are the last of the Tok'ra."

In the silence that followed, Lieutenant Delavie rushed in. "Colonel, I -- sorry, General, sir --" he brushed past O'Neill and handed Sam the healing device with care, "Here, ma'am."

"Thank you," she handed it straight over to Malek. "Please, do what you can."

He inched closer on his knees and held the device in both hands above her father's back, and stared down, as the device began to glow.

She watched, tense and hopeful, with her hand resting on her dad's lightly. But when she cast a glance at Malek's face, she noted with dismay that he was ash-pale and gaunt. A host shouldn't look so weak. She wondered uneasily how much he would be able to use the device, without killing himself.

Soon it became more than curiosity. Her father gasped and began breathing more steadily, and the terrible wound knitted right before her eyes. And still Malek didn't stop, even as his hands began to tremble.

"Malek, you've done enough." He didn't seem to hear, so she grabbed his arm. "Malek, stop."

The glow of the device went out and he crumpled. She caught him from hitting his head on the ramp and checked his pulse. He was out cold, as was her father.

The med team, who had been hovering at the end of the ramp, came forward at her gesture and loaded the two Tok'ra. She started to follow, but paused next to O'Neill, who had an odd look on his face as he watched the Tok'ra wheeled out.

"Last two," he muttered.

"Sir?"

He waved a hand in dismissal. "Go, Carter. See to your dad."

"Thank you, sir."

"And Carter, when your dad wakes up, see if he'll give you some more details about the attack," he ordered.

She nodded and went after the med team.

* * *

A full day passed before her father awoke. Sam had expected Malek to wake first, but he was still sleeping, when Jacob's eyes opened.

"Dad?" she pressed his hand in hers and smiled when his fingers tightened. He turned his head and saw her.

"Sammie?" he whispered hoarsely.

She gave him water and asked, "How are you feeling."

He grimaced. "Better than dead. Did Malek make it?"

"In the bed next door," she pointed and he turned the other way to check on the other Tok'ra. "He's still out. Staff blast to the shoulder, four-inch wood spike in his back, _and _he healed you on top of that. But we think he'll be fine."

Jacob nodded and closed his eyes, looking tired, before opening them again. "We'll be okay too. Sel's still working, but soon, he says. How are you doing, kiddo?"

"Good. I was promoted, Dad. So was O'Neill -- he's CO of the base now."

His grip on her hand tightened. "I'm proud of you, Sam. What happened to George?"

"Special advisor to the president on interstellar affairs. A lot's happened, Dad, but it'll wait. What happened to you? Malek said you two were the last, is it true?"

He shut his eyes again, this time with obvious grief. "Yeah. Sel and Malek are the last."

"But how?"

"We gathered all of them in, at a secure base. Some thought it was too risky having everyone spread out, when Anubis was out there. Plus, we had some ... issues to deal with. We heard about Anubis' attack, and the new weapon here -- you'll have to tell us all about it -- but the decision was made to stay hidden. And we were betrayed."

He stopped and sipped more water.

"By who?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. Probably one of our 'allies' on the planet where we found refuge. It doesn't matter anymore -- they're all dead too."

"I'm so sorry, Dad," she murmured and bent down to kiss his cheek. "How did you and Malek escape?"

"We weren't there," he answered simply. "We were scouting another world for a possible base. We came back in the aftermath. Ten of the drones breached the tunnels. There weren't enough weapons that affected them. Two were still alive when we came to the village. We killed one but ran out of juice in the guns. I was still thirty feet from the gate when I was hit. Malek must have dragged me. Thank God he remembered the code."

He wilted visibly, eyelids open only by force of will.

"Then I owe him," she kissed him again. "Get some rest, Dad. I'm glad you're here."

He was asleep before she'd gotten off the stool.

She paused beside Malek's bed, where he was still asleep. He'd been cleaned up and put in one of the black T-shirts, to wait for him to wake up. The wavy brown hair looked soft, gentling the sharp angles of his face.

She remembered him from the Alpha site mess with the ashrak and then on Pangar with Egeria almost two years ago now. Though she'd not heard the host speak once, she thought she had glimpsed him. Malek was the scientist, the one who had known how to build a TER from scratch and do complex molecular analysis on the tretonin to figure out a possible cure. But she knew from Pierce, who had spent time on Raisa before the attack, that the host was the actual leader. He was the one who had calmed Ocker, and held his temper against O'Neill's provocation.

She was curious to really meet him.

The next day, she went down to see how they were doing. Her dad was sleeping again -- apparently either Selmak's grief was interfering with his repair of the injury or her dad had been even closer to death than she'd thought. But Malek was gone.

"Sergeant Cho," she called to the nurse passing out in the hall.

"Colonel?" the young woman came back into view.

"What happened to the other Tok'ra?"

Cho's eyes grew wide and she rushed in. "What? But he was right here twenty minutes ago, ma'am. I swear he was asleep."

Sam smiled to curb the incipient panic in the nurse's face. "It's all right. They do that when they're done healing. I'll find him." She lifted the phone on the wall and pushed the extension for the control room.

"Control room. Simmons," the answer came promptly.

"Captain, this is Carter. I need the SF's to search for the Tok'ra Malek. He's --"

"Um, colonel?" Simmons cut in gently. "He's here. In the gate room."

Her sense of alarm spiked. He couldn't be leaving, not so soon. "Where's he going, Graham?"

"Nowhere, ma'am. He didn't ask us to open the gate. He's just standing there." Simmons lowered his voice. "He doesn't look dangerous or anything. He looks sort of sad actually. Should I page the general?"

"No. I'm on the way."

Sam made the quickest trip down that she could and entered the gateroom quietly. As Graham had said, Malek was there, standing on the floor at the foot of the ramp, looking up at the gate. A pair of olive BDU pants had joined his black T-shirt, but his feet were bare. His hands were clasped behind his back and she noticed he stood at perfect parade rest.

With a gesture, she dismissed the SFs standing guard and walked slowly up to him. He said nothing, though he must have heard her approach, so she broke the silence. "Going somewhere?"

"No." After a second, he added politely, "Major Carter."

"Actually, I've been promoted. It's lieutenant colonel now," she corrected with a smile. Then she realized that the host was speaking. Without the Goa'uld timbre, he had a pleasant, rather rich voice.

"Ah. Lieutenant Colonel Carter then," he corrected himself carefully.

"You could just call me Sam," she offered.

"Thank you, Sam." He finally turned to face her, and while she wouldn't have called his expression 'sad,' it was distant, as though most of his attention was still elsewhere. Understandably so, after what had happened.

Her smile vanished and she reached out a hand to touch his arm. "How are you doing?"

"Better than Malek," he answered with a not-smile twist to his lips. "It's ironic -- for all his years, I am the one with the experience of watching my people die."

There wasn't much she could say to that, or to the shadows in his eyes. So she just said, "I'm sorry. But thank you for saving my father and bringing him here."

He inclined his head. "It helped to have a destination to focus on. You may tell O'Neill that we will be as helpful and ... unobtrusive as possible, while we have refuge here."

She inwardly winced. Malek had experienced the rough side of O'Neill's distrust of the Tok'ra twice, and was clearly doubtful of his welcome. "You're safe here," she reassured him. "The president agreed to General O'Neill's request that you have asylum here as long as you like."

Nodding his thanks, he added, "Asheron."

She raised her brows in confusion, not understanding what he was saying. "I'm sorry?"

"Asheron," he repeated. "My name."

Sam had the feeling she had just received a gift. She smiled. "Asheron. I'm glad to meet you."  
He turned back to look at the quiet Stargate. "Strange," he murmured, "After thousands of years that the war should end this way. How disappointed Egeria would be if she knew."

"I don't think so," Sam disagreed. "I spoke with her, too, you know. She was proud of what the Tok'ra had accomplished. She would be even prouder that you made her death into a legacy to free the Jaffa."

"Perhaps." He said the word, but she knew he was no longer listening. His gaze turned inward, not paying attention to anything else.

She patted his shoulder once. "I'll let you be. But please, don't walk into an opening wormhole. You have a place here with us."

* * *

Asheron wandered the halls. He had no briefings scheduled for the day, no one seemed to want anything from him, and after two hours of reading in the commissary, he needed to do something.

Two attempts to engage his guards in conversation proved futile, so he went looking for other company.

He felt somewhat guilty that he was bored. After all, Malek was still with him and was usually company enough. But Malek was buried in his grief, and refused to respond to Asheron's attempts at comfort or humor. So Asheron left him alone. Malek would come out of it when he was ready, and not before.

Unfortunately, he couldn't talk with his fellow Tok'ra either. Jacob had gone to visit his son and grandkids in California. Selmak had demanded time with the children before consenting to a visit to Washington and briefings with the leaders there next week. They were meetings that Asheron was just as glad to miss. He had spoken of the deaths of all his friends too many times already.

In the meantime, though, Asheron had no one to talk with. At his request, the guards escorted him to Lieutenant Colonel Carter's lab. In the past week since he had arrived, Sam at least had been friendly to him. Some people came up to him because they wanted something, others because they were curious about the alien in their midst, but few just wanted to talk and welcome him like she did.

He found her lab door open. She was bent over some device on the work bench, absorbed in testing it. He hesitated to disturb her, but thought she would have closed the door if she wanted no interruptions at all. He knocked lightly on the door frame. "Sam? May I interrupt?"

She turned and smiled to see him. "Asheron, just who I was thinking about. Come in." She gestured him in.

Wondering why she was thinking about him, he joined her to look at the object she was studying. It was a metal ball with multiple octagonal facets, and was small enough to fit in the palm of one hand.

"What is it?" he asked.

She picked it up and it let out a soft hum and glowed. "An Atanik power supply. I got to thinking about what Dad had said about the charge being too small to kill more than two of the drones." She tossed it lightly from one hand to another, and he eyed it warily. Apparently Sam was not immune to the Tau'ri tendency to brave foolhardiness.

He restrained a relieved sigh when she set it back on the table.

She continued, "So I went through the various small power supplies we've collected over the years to see if I might be able to adapt one. Of course, it would have to be small. I mean, we could tape the naquadah reactor to the rifle, but that's not very portable. Anyway, I thought of this. I stripped it out of an Atanik shield device that one of the other teams found a few years ago. Its capacity is at least as great as its weight in refined naquadah."

"Then it is efficient." Not without a qualm, Asheron picked it up. It felt slightly warm, but it neither glowed nor hummed, as it had when she had held it. He put it down hastily. "What happened?"

She looked away, but he caught her smile, amused by his caution. "The Ataniks apparently weren't friendly with the Goa'uld. People hosting symbiotes can't work their technology. Curiously, it seems to be sensing something else, rather than whatever lets me use the ribbon device, since I can work their tech too."

"The ribbon device will work with anyone who has sufficient naquadah in the blood," he said, amazed no one had told her this before. He was going to have a talk with Selmak about neglecting to tell Sam this piece of information. "It has little to do with the actual presence of a symbiote. If that were all that was necessary, Jaffa could use it, but the primm'ta pouches prevent the passage of naquadah molecules."

"Really?" she gazed in astonishment. "I never knew that." She paused to think about it then shrugged. "I guess it doesn't really matter. But I wonder how the Ataniks could be so selective?"

Asheron enjoyed the next half hour of her company as they discussed how to find the method by which the Ataniks detected the presence of symbiotes. He was not a scientist himself and his home world had been barely entering a technological era when he had departed, but after all these years as host to Malek and able to pull on his knowledge as needed, he was able to at least contribute to the conversation.

But after a little while, her enthusiasm was simply so brilliant, he stopped to just watch her. Her blue eyes shone with excitement of discovery and love of exploration, as her fingers made graceful passes in the air in demonstration. She was an attractive woman, but in that moment he saw her as beautiful.

She was looking at him intently, and the brightness dimmed a little as her enthusiasm faltered. He realized she was waiting for a response and he had completely missed what she had said.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes. I apologize. Malek was reminding me about Anise's project on the Ataniks. I knew I had heard the name, but forgotten where," he temporized swiftly, not willing to tell her what he had truly been thinking. Then he sighed, realizing that the expected acid comment from Malek for lying was not coming.

"That was where we first heard about them, when Anise brought us some Atanik armbands to test and blow up a ha'tak that Apophis had under construction." Her gaze slid away and she began fiddling nervously with the small power supply.

"Are _you _all right?" he asked in sudden concern that this conversation had taken a turn into dangerous waters and he didn't even know why.

"Oh, sure," she answered, not very convincingly when she still wouldn't look at him. "Several ... awkward ... things happened because of that mission."

Only then did he recall the other half of what Anise had told him about the results of the Atanik mission, and what Sam meant about "awkward" things. The za'tarc testing had followed SG-1's return, and then the actual za'tarc had been discovered. He wished he could call the words back.

But she continued. "And then Martouf..." Her voice trailed off, and he filled the silence, so she wouldn't have to explain.

"Yes, I know. Anise told me what happened to him." Within, he could trace the direction of Malek's thoughts: from Martouf, to Lantash, to Revanna, to Raisa, to Mekardin, each step deeper and darker than the one before. He found a smile, determined not to let either Sam or Malek completely fall into sorrow. "He and Jolinar were the first other Tok'ra I met after blending with Malek. I went on my first mission with them."

That sparked a new interest in her. She set down the power supply and turned on her stool to face him eagerly. "You did? Really? What happened?"

"Let's see," he pretended to have to search his memory, though it was not so far distant. "It was about twenty-five years ago now. I was junior to them, so I was expected to observe. But of course a new host, on fire with desire to destroy all the Goa'uld, could not truly be expected to merely stand back and observe."

"Uh oh," her lips twitched, a grin sparking beneath the surface.

"Precisely. Let us say that Heru'ur had a bad day. Without Lantash and Jolinar I would not have escaped."

The remembrance also stirred Malek, as he had hoped it would. _'They were angry, weren't they?'_ Malek mused, remembering with affection what had truly embarrassed him at the time.

_'I don't think I ever saw Martouf more furious,'_ Asheron agreed. _'But it was because we had put Jolinar in needless danger. I don't think he was angry with what we did.'_

_'We were still learning our bond at the time,'_ Malek said, tactfully not mentioning that his host hadn't then decided whether being Tok'ra was going to give him all the revenge he wanted.

"I don't remember anything about that," Sam murmured. "When I first saw you, I knew you looked familiar but that was all."

She looked disturbed by this gap in her memories, but he shook his head once. "Not surprising. I went to the technical group soon after and then led my own. I saw them only occasionally."

_'That is completely misleading,'_ Malek informed his host sharply.

_'Shall I tell her the whole truth then? No, I think not. If Sam doesn't recall, then that is for the best. It was a terrible time for Jolinar. If someday she does remember, I'm sure she will understand why we didn't say anything.'_ Malek didn't totally agree, but he acquiesced and that was enough.

Asheron decided to change the subject completely. "Your father made a reference to an entertainment called 'The Terminator'. Do you happen to have a copy that I could borrow?"

She was startled and then went along with his change gratefully. "Sure. I'll bring it to you tomorrow. I wouldn't mind watching it again, if my company's okay."

What she meant was that she wanted to watch his reactions while watching, but he didn't mind. It was not as though he had many claims on his time. "Of course. You would be most welcome, Sam."

"Sounds fun. It's a date," she declared with a smile, then seemed embarrassed by her words. "Well, I mean, not a _date _date. Just that we have a plan."

He had no idea what connotation the word had that was making her uncomfortable, but he smiled. "Yes. I look forward to it. I haven't yet experienced many Tau'ri entertainments."

"Well, you've only been here a week. Give it some time."

* * *

Sam microwaved a bag of popcorn and dumped it in a large bowl, feeling a little cross. Asheron must have told people about the movie, and word had spread, until O'Neill had come to her this morning and suggested putting the television and DVD player in the commissary to show the movie.

She suspected Asheron had found out what 'date' meant, and invited other people to join them to escape the implication. But now that she knew they weren't going to be alone, she wished she had kept quiet.

She might have to share his reaction to the movie, but she was _not _going to share popcorn with anyone else. No way. They could go get their own.

In the commissary, the tables had all been pulled back and the chairs set up in perfectly straight rows. The big screen television was set up, and Siler and Asheron were standing behind it, examining the input and output jacks.

"Is there a problem?" she asked.

"No, not at all," Asheron answered, turning his head and smiling at her in greeting. He picked his way over the power cords to meet her. "Sergeant Siler was explaining the system to me."

"Here's the DVD," she handed it to Siler.

"Special edition," Siler approved. "Very nice, Colonel."

While Siler set it up, she claimed front seats for herself and Asheron next to her. Daniel wandered in, then Teal'c, to sit next to them. And then more and more people. Finally, she gave the word to turn out the lights and the movie began.

She kept glancing aside at his face. He was rapt, barely taking his gaze away from the action. His expression showed every nuance of what he was thinking -- shock at the violence, encouragement when the heroine faltered, excitement, sorrow when the hero died.

But he had some odd reactions too. He smiled in definite amusement during the main chase. And he frowned when it ended, as though something bothered him. Even after everyone else had gone, he still seemed troubled.

"Don't think about the temporal mechanics," she urged, suspecting that might be his problem. "They don't work."

"I didn't expect it to be accurate. I was thinking about John Connor's resistance group in the future," he answered slowly. "How ... similar it is to the Goa'uld and Tok'ra."

"There are parallels to any resistance movement, really." She was having definite second thoughts about showing him the movie. She had hoped he would be inspired by the humans' triumph over the T-800, not depressed by the futility of the time paradox. Forcing a smile, she changed the subject. "Well, now that you've watched this, I'm sure Teal'c will introduce you to 'Star Wars.' It's his favorite movie."

He regarded her for a moment, his head to one side slightly. "And what is _your _favorite movie, Sam?"

Her cheeks felt warm, and she fiddled with the bowl in her lap. She usually claimed '2001' when people asked her that question, since she rarely wanted to appear too 'girly' among all of her military men friends and the science was well done. But she found herself willing to tell him the truth. "It's not very exciting," she admitted reluctantly. "Most guys can't stand it, since it's a chick flick. But I love 'Sleepless in Seattle.'"

"Then I would like to watch it with you."

Though she felt flattered that her opinion mattered to him, she warned, "It's a romance."

The response was dry, "I believe I can withstand the torture for a few hours."

As she chuckled, their eyes met, and she jerked her gaze away, suddenly confused. Was she really thinking that watching 'Sleepless in Seattle' with Asheron was anything else but a date? What was she doing?

Beside her, he rose to his feet and his tone was more formal, "I thank you, Sam, for a truly enjoyable evening."

She didn't want him to think that she was spurning his invitation and got to her feet hastily. "I'll bring it in, and we'll watch it some evening. But just us, okay?"

"That would be preferable." And there was no mistaking the interest in his gaze. But unlike so many of the others with that same look in the past, she saw no possession, no desire for someone else - Asheron saw only Samantha Carter.

And though she was still wondering what the hell she was doing, she had to answer, "Me, too." Then she took a step back, both literally and figuratively. "I'll see you in the morning for breakfast."

"Good night, Sam."

It was probably a good thing for her professionalism, though secretly disappointing, that she had to postpone their movie night when one of the teams brought back a mystery device. Asheron volunteered to help her, and she thought figuring it out could be more fun than the movie. But they weren't alone, and Bill Lee's presence, though usually one she enjoyed, was a definite damper.

On the positive side, she was pleased to see and hear Malek emerge during the experiments, and even though he was completely focused on the science, she thought it was a good sign that he was beginning to recover.

But then SG-1 left for a three-day mission, and when they returned, she had so much to do she could only share breakfast with him twice. Though she wished the situation was different, there was nothing she could do.

* * *

Daniel looked at the stone tablet SG-14 had brought back from a mission. The writing on the tablet was worn, but legible. Unfortunately, Daniel had hardly any idea what it said, only that from what the team had said, it must have been important.

The writing seemed to be a variation of Babylonian, an odd cursive form of cuneiform, but the words they made were either in a very different dialect than the known variations of Sumero-Babylonian or another language altogether.

He was about to pull out one of his reference books and get started, when he realized he really ought to try a more obvious source first.

Asheron and Malek had taken over one of the corner tables in the commissary. He drank tea like a chain smoker, cup after cup. At first he used the commissary's free tea bags, but then as he started to gather some friends, they brought him different varieties to try. Daniel himself had brought him a box of Darjeeling, after Asheron had expressed a liking for it.

He would talk to anyone who sat down with him, but Daniel had noticed that Malek didn't speak much. And he obviously had little to do. Jacob, even Jacob-host-to-an-alien, was still officially an Air Force general and had been folded back into SGC operations. He was away, giving reports to the president, Hammond, and other Pentagon brass.

But no one seemed to know what to do with Malek. Sam and Teal'c had both recommended that he be given facilities to work on Jaffa tretonin, but so far the approval had not come.

So Daniel thought that he might appreciate someone asking him for help.

As expected, Asheron was alone at his table in the commissary, which was nearly deserted at this hour of the afternoon. He had an elegant rose china teapot before him that Daniel hadn't seen before, and he was reading what looked like a mission report. As he read, he sipped from a matching cup.

He glanced up as Daniel approached the table. "Daniel, please, join me."

Daniel took the indicated chair, setting down his stone tablet carefully. "Nice pot."

Asheron smiled. "Sam gave it to me. What can I do for you, Daniel?"

He tapped the tablet. "I was hoping Malek might be able to translate this for me."

"Of course, we will try." Asheron pulled the tablet closer and picked up his teacup, bending close to look at the letters.

His cup halted halfway to his mouth and stayed there, hovering. He stared at the tablet as if he'd seen a ghost.

In a way he had.

Asheron didn't speak aloud, but his thoughts ran frantic and amazed as he read the tablet again and again. But the translation remained the same, and more importantly, he knew what it _meant _.

_'Is this what I think? Does it really mean what I think it does? Malek? Malek, you have to help me.'_ Asheron felt unbalanced, shock and dismay and incredible hope tumbling about in his mind, all at once.

Prompted by his host's distress, Malek came out of his grief-stricken isolation and surged back into the bond. It took only a few seconds for him to catch up and his disbelief and wild hope was as strong as his host's. _'Inannar. This cannot be real, Asheron.'_

_'It says Inannar. It has to be.'_ Asheron let out a long breath trying to think about it logically. _'It makes some sense. We know that they both fought Ra. And Ishtar was very powerful, even two thousand years ago.'_

_'Then we must go look. Imagine, if she's still there, after all this time...'_

_'You wouldn't be the end,'_ Asheron agreed. It would be amazing. But a chill ran through him as he realized what the mission would also mean for him personally. His excitement and his hope drained right out of him, leaving just a hollow shell of dread. _'I can't go back there, Malek.'_

Malek knew exactly why he was afraid, and the feel of his presence was like a gentle, supporting embrace. _'You can. You are strong, beloved.'_

_'Not that strong.'_ The mere thought of returning was making his heart beat faster. _'You promised when we left that we would never go back.'_

Malek hesitated, selecting his words with care. _'Of course I didn't know that we would discover this. And I would never ask you to return for anything less. But, Asheron, I _do_ ask this. We must find her. What you fear are memories of the past, but what we seek is the future. The future of the Tok'ra.'_

_'Yes, I know.'_ But just because he consciously knew that Malek was right didn't change the vice squeezing his ribs so he felt as though he couldn't breathe. _'I would go anywhere else with joy. But Inannar... You know what that means to me.'_ Unbidden, memories flashed between them of a beautiful woman with long, black hair, perfect golden skin, dark fire eyes, and a malicious smile that could make him tremble even decades later...

_The ghost of her finger trails down his chest, and he hears the purr in his ears, "Why do you resist, beloved? A goddess must be worshipped. Worship me, my little king..."_

And his own voice answers her, in a desperate whisper, "Please, whatever you want... I'll do it, I swear. Oh, please, don't --"

Malek yanked him out of the memory, and gave him the image of a Goa'uld queen symbiote on the ground and a boot coming down to squash it like an insect. _'You won, Asheron. Do not let her defeat you now that she is dead.'_

Again, Malek was right. Asheron took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He opened his eyes and saw the cup in his hand was now trembling. He very carefully set the cup down, making his decision. _'For you. Not the Tok'ra, not Egeria. I'll go back for you, because you ask it.'_

_'Thank you. Remember, I am always with you.'_

The reminder let him shove the memories back to the dark place where he kept them and he took another breath, trying to let Malek's excitement and hope fill him in place of reflexive fear and doubt. He saw Daniel watching him, curious and concerned. "Daniel, do you know what this says?"

Puzzled, Daniel answered, "Well, no, obviously not, or I wouldn't have asked you. All I know is that it's related to Babylonian, and it was important. The language may actually be a variation of Akkadian," he realized, thinking about some of the words in the header. "I think it mentions Inanna, or her later aspect Ishtar --"

"Ishtar." Asheron confirmed, resolutely not thinking of her.

"You mean _you _can read this?" Daniel asked in astonishment. "Not Malek?"

"It's written in the ritual language of my people." Asheron stood, determined to do this. If it had to be done, he wanted to get it over with. "Daniel, I must go through the Stargate. I would like you to come with me."

Daniel blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden change of attitude. Asheron inwardly smiled a bit. Apparently he had been doing such a good job of being mild and unobtrusive that the young archaeologist thought Asheron was like that all the time. "Well, uh, we'll need Jack's okay --"

"I know." Asheron realized what other unpleasant task awaited him, in order to get O'Neill's assistance on this mission. He probably was going to have to reveal the truth. He tapped the top of the stone tablet. "This tells a story."

"A story about what?"

"The future and salvation of the Tok'ra."


	3. Revelations

Sam sat in the briefing room, wondering what this was about. Teal'c was in his usual seat, then Daniel and Asheron came in. Asheron was carrying a stone tablet and greeted her absently, very different from his usual courtesy.

They waited a few minutes for O'Neill, but Asheron remained standing, looking off into the middle-distance at nothing in particular.

O'Neill then entered from his office. "The president says hi, and that he's very curious about your mission, Malek. But he's not going to let Jacob out for a few more days yet. Sorry." He sat down and looked at the empty table in front of him. "What, no briefing folder?"

"I will give you the information." Asheron turned slightly to address everyone. "All of you know pieces of the story, but none of you know everything that I am going to say. So, I ask your indulgence, while I explain why this --" he held up the tablet and then set it on the table carefully, "will let us find someone long lost and vital to the continuation of our people."

O'Neill frowned slightly. "You know we already found the lost city of the Ancients, right?"

Asheron smiled, humoring him. "This has nothing to do with the Ancients, O'Neill. Only the Goa'uld." He settled into his stance that seemed so similar to parade rest, with his feet apart and his hands behind his back. Sam suddenly wondered if he had once had military training before becoming a host. That could explain the leadership charisma that he exuded.

"More than two thousand years ago," he began, "while Egeria was still free, one of the other major system lords was Marduk."

"Killed him," O'Neill offered.

Asheron ignored the interruption. "Marduk slew his own queen Tiamat to take power. He was so insufferable that his Jaffa and priests rose against him. They were helped by Tiamat's daughter Ishtar, who then took Marduk's place among the system lords. You have already encountered her territory - a minor Goa'uld in her service was Shak'ran, who was awarded the planet Pangar after a battle with Ra. Ishtar always held a core of several worlds as her own, which never passed into the hands of her enemies. One of those worlds was Inannar. Ishtar hated Ra, and so did Egeria. The two queens were not allies, but they did have a common enemy. And Ishtar was so powerful that Egeria doubted that Ishtar's world of Inannar would fall to Ra."

He picked up the tablet. "This describes what happened next. " -- and so the lady of the fountains, goddess of flowing water, traveled through the lake of the moon and the tunnel of night to the place of Ishtar's radiance. She walked in secret, carrying her precious burden, the sleeping daughter she would hide in the shadows of Ishtar's glory to keep her safe from the sun.""

"The Stargate," Daniel murmured. "The lake and the tunnel, must refer to the Stargate and the wormhole. And Inannar is another way to say 'Ishtar's radiance'."

But Sam started quivering with excitement, as she jumped to the more important part of the story. She sat straight, staring at Asheron. "Are you saying that Egeria hid a daughter -- another queen -- on that planet?"

Very gently Asheron set the tablet back on the table. "Yes," he answered simply. "On Pangar, Egeria was able to tell me that a daughter once existed, but she could not recall where. This tablet tells me."

"So where is it?" O'Neill demanded.

Asheron blinked once and one corner of his lips lifted in a rueful smile. "Inannar is the name of my homeworld. The hope for the Tok'ra has been in a place I have not seen in more than twenty years."

"You want to go find the queen, I take it. And you need Daniel because...?" O'Neill asked.

"I know much of my people's history, and I can read our ritual writings. But I do not have the training to find her that way. Daniel does."

O'Neill tapped his fingers, thinking, while everyone else was silent. Sam thought it was amazing that there might be hope after all for the continuation of the Tok'ra.

"One more question. Let's suppose you find her -- what then?"

Asheron ducked his head and Malek spoke, "Then she becomes the mother of the next generation of Tok'ra."

"Is that really necessary?" O'Neill asked. He realized how it sounded and raised a hand as Malek took a step backward, his expression shocked. "I know you and Selmak are the last, and I'm sorry about that, but really it'll be, what, ten years or more for any of her kids to grow up?"

Sam could foresee the meeting deteriorating as O'Neill's pragmatism ran head-long into the Tok'ra's _need _for hope, and leaned forward. "Sir, perhaps this could help with the problem of primm'ta for the rebel Jaffa. Perhaps those unwilling to take tretonin would be willing to help the young Tok'ra."

He wasn't buying it. "That seems like a lot of speculation, Carter. Who's to say that she can even be found in the first place, or even still exists?"

The Tok'ra switched back, Malek retreating. "I cannot promise to find her," Asheron declared. "But I can promise that I will search. Unless you refuse me permission to go through the Stargate." He leveled a very flat stare at O'Neill, who pushed back his chair several inches.

"No, of course not. You're not a prisoner here," O'Neill said hastily.

"And Daniel?" Asheron asked.

"I'd really like to go, Jack," Daniel put in. "This is a living culture descended from Babylon. Plus, we don't know much about Ishtar, even though she was a very powerful system lord of the first dynasty."

Jack frowned, and waved his finger as if trying to catch an elusive memory. "I seem to remember that she's dead, right?"

"Yes. She is dead," Asheron confirmed, in a tone that left no doubt at all. "Never to return."

Sam frowned, thinking back to the story that Bra'tac had told about Ishtar's death. How could he be that sure? It was just a story. Ishtar could be stuck in a sarcophagus or canopic jar, not dead.

"And the world's safe?" O'Neill continued. "No new Goa'uld moved in?"

"No new Goa'uld that I know of has gone to Inannar. But as to the world's safety, I cannot say. Ishtar attacked the planet twenty-five years ago, with both alkesh bombardment and Jaffa shock troops. Much of it was left in ruins, and its people either killed or fled." He hesitated and gave a little uncomfortable shrug. "You heard Bra'tac's story at the Alpha Site, too. I know nothing about the planet's current state."

"Well, we're gonna need help," Daniel stated, as if it was a done thing that he was going. "I know it's been a long time, but do you think anyone might remember you?"

Asheron froze. It was not an obvious change of pose. Sam wasn't sure that anyone else noticed, but she was sitting across from him and she saw his face. Daniel's logical question had very clearly thrown him for a loop.

"Perhaps," Asheron answered, selecting his words with care. "The priests will probably remember me, though I don't know how helpful they will be, nor if any still remain alive. We may have to search the temple archives ourselves."

Sam wondered why Asheron thought that the priests, as a group, rather than one or two would remember him. Then she wondered what he was taking such pains to hide. There was something he was very carefully _not _saying, some secret he was avoiding. And she suddenly had a flash of a memory of Malek sitting by the fire, as still as a statue and staring into the flames, while Bra'tac told the story of a king who overthrew a System Lord and then disappeared into legend.

"It's you, isn't it?" she blurted. "The king from the story. You killed Ishtar yourself, didn't you?"

Asheron flinched and clearly wished she hadn't put the pieces together. But he answered with a steady voice, "Yes. I killed her and sabotaged her sarcophagus so she could never rise again. And then I forced her ha'tak to crash into the surface."

They were all staring at him now: Jack and Daniel with the same wide-open shock she must have on her own face, and Teal'c, when she looked, wore the expression of respect he bestowed on the very few who won his complete approval.

Asheron walked away, toward the window to look at the Stargate. "I bonded with Malek in the debris. When we went through the Stargate, I left behind all that I had been. I never told my name, even to other Tok'ra, for fear that they would connect me to the story."

"Why the hell not?" O'Neill asked in bewilderment. "You killed a system lord --"

Asheron whirled back around, his face openly anguished. "She massacred my people because of me! Thousands of people -- _my _people that I had sworn to protect -- died, because I plotted against her. Can you imagine that I wanted to talk about it again? The only reason I am speaking of it now is for Malek and the future of the Tok'ra." He inhaled a deep breath and calmed himself. "I don't want to go back. I don't want to find out that my name has become a curse. But ..." his anger drained from him and his shoulders slumped. "I have to go home."

For a moment, there was silence. O'Neill broke it, clearing his throat. He didn't seem to know what to think of what Asheron had said. "All right, you have a go. Carter, Teal'c, you're backup. I assume your dad will want to go too, Carter."

She nodded. "I'm sure he will, as soon as he gets back."

Asheron turned around. "I would rather not wait. It will take some time to make sure the planet is safe, and if it is, to find what we need to start. Jacob and Selmak can join us when they return."

"All right." O'Neill turned to Sam. "Send a MALP first for recon."

"Yes, sir," she answered promptly, glad she wouldn't have to persuade him to let her go with. She could barely take her eyes off Asheron, impressed by what he had revealed. He had killed a system lord. He had been a king. But even more than that, he had revealed a previously hidden passion, deep and strong as any she had ever known.

Asheron pulled himself together and inclined his head to O'Neill, in a motion that Sam now thought he had probably been trained in from the cradle. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," the general responded with equal courtesy. "Dismissed."

* * *

The MALP went through to the coordinates Asheron provided.

Sam was back in her usual chair at the control room console to wait for the telemetry to come in. She was very aware of Asheron standing behind her.

"We're receiving," she announced as the screen flickered.

The interior of a large temple soon came into view, despite uneven lighting. It was a grand, empty space, mostly stone with immense female statues lining the aisles. Elaborate gold torch brackets hung like spiders on the columns, and through a dust-filled shaft of light she glimpsed a red-crystal chandelier hanging high above the floor.

"The temple of Ishtar's radiance," Asheron murmured at her ear, and she shivered. "The little queen may be there somewhere. It is the largest and oldest of her temples, and has always housed the Stargate."

She cleared her throat in order to find her voice. "It looks intact."

"She avoided destroying her great temples. I see no sign that any other Goa'uld has attempted to change the statuary or writings. Which confirms that none have taken over again. But I see no priests."

"Priests? In spite of what she did?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Perhaps not," he murmured. "But some of them relished the power that her return gave them, and they would not have given it up willingly." He shook his head once. "No, this bothers me, Sam. If there are no priests because her religion failed, then why is it not looted? It looks the same as when I left."

She checked the readouts from the MALP, scanning the reports in case something catastrophic had happened to the world that wasn't visible in the temple interior. To her relief, she saw nothing. "The atmosphere and temperature are within the normal range. I see no indication of obvious toxins or radioactivity."

Glancing at her sharply, he let out a breath. "That had not occurred to me. I am glad it is not true."

"Me, too. Do you know, is it likely to be either very cold or very hot outside?"

"The passing of the seasons is not easy to recall. I have been away from Naritania longer than I lived there, Sam."

To chase away the shadows gathering in his face, she said brightly, "I'll recommend standard gear then and we should be ready."

He rubbed a hand over his face and straightened, more businesslike, "Tomorrow morning."

"Yes." She stood and followed him to the door. Then, before she lost her nerve, she lowered her voice so the techs couldn't hear. "I was wondering if you'd like to come to my house for dinner. Um, it might be nice for you to see something of Earth, since you've been stuck inside all this time, plus if you're leaving tomorrow --"

"Sam," his quiet voice halted her babble. "I would like to accept. But I do not believe I am permitted to leave the base."

"My dad can."

"I am not Jacob."

Their eyes met and the warmth she saw in those dark eyes made her breath catch. "Yeah, I know," she whispered. "I'll clear it with General O'Neill and come get you."

"If not, I still appreciate the invitation, Sam." He brushed the back of her hand lightly with his own and her heart rate jumped. She couldn't help watching him leave.

Later, she realized that he had been much wiser than she, when O'Neill stared at her for a heartbeat and demanded incredulously, "Carter, you're kidding me, right?"

She resisted the urge to snap at him and answered with forced calm, "No, sir. But he's been stuck in here for two weeks. All I want is to take him to my house and feed him some food that he can't get in the commissary. Is that so terrible?"

"Carter --"

"He saved my dad's life," she reminded him, trying to make him see how important this was to her.

"Carter, I know that. But he's a Tok'ra."

"So's dad, and he can leave the base whenever he wants."

He let out a frustrated groan. "Your dad is also a major general in the Air Force. You know Malek -- Asheron, whatever -- isn't the same deal. And you know the SGC is under a lot more scrutiny these days. I have to get presidential authority for any aliens to leave the base. And I'm not picking up the red phone so you can take him to dinner."

She clenched her jaw to keep back the angry words. She wanted to ask if he'd pick up the phone if Asheron was a Tollan, or an Asgard, or anything other than a Tok'ra. Instead, she asked tightly, "Then is it all right if I bring in outside food?"

He opened his mouth, smartly reconsidered what he was about to say, and nodded. "Sure. Knock yourself out. Just make sure the SF's don't get a chance to take any."

He was joking and she smiled perfunctorily, rising to her feet. "Thank you, sir. If that's all?"

After alpha shift went off duty, Sam returned to the base, plastic bag of take-out in hand and knocked on the door of Asheron's quarters. She was thankful that O'Neill had at least decided that the Tok'ra no longer required a constant guard, even though she was aware that the hall security camera had a good view. She had to remind herself that she was just bringing him dinner, and her CO had approved. Still, she felt a little anxious.

Asheron smiled to see her and opened the door wide to let her in. "Sam, welcome."

His quarters were beginning to look occupied, she noticed, with a book on the bedstand, a computer and a stack of folders on the desk, and a small pot of African violets in the middle of the round table. She wondered who had given him the flowers, hoping it was just the commissary staff or Lee's group in thanks for his help. The tea set she had given him was turned upside down on a towel atop the credenza.

"Here, I brought Chinese." She set the bag on the table and busied herself with taking out the cartons. "They're an ethnic --" she began and then caught herself from more nervous babble, explaining more simply, "Lord Yu's people. I brought rice, spicy chicken, shrimp with snow peas, and tofu with vegetables."

"Sam, this is wonderful. Tok'ra cuisine ... well, it leaves much to be desired," she turned at the amusement in his voice.

"And the commissary isn't that much better," she laughed, and with that, her nervousness vanished.

They ate until stuffed, talking about Earth mostly, but then Sam decided to turn the discussion to something she had wanted to know since he'd talked about the mission.

"I was wondering... what will happen if we find the queen? I mean, if everything turns out for the absolute best and she can breed a bunch of little Tok'ra-lings, what will you do?" She tried to ask the question as casually as possible, not wanting to reveal how much the answer meant to her.

Asheron didn't answer quickly. He chased a pea across his plate with his chopsticks and by the time he captured it, his words were thought out with care. "I suppose that depends on your leaders. Unless, as you suggested, an arrangement can be made with the rebel Jaffa, the larva would need a tank in which to mature. We would have to be certain of its safety here on Earth or elsewhere."

She bit her lip. "That's not what I meant. The larva are going to take years to mature. What would you like to be doing in the meantime, if you could do anything you wanted?"

"Work toward the destruction of the Goa'uld," he answered promptly. "Whether in cooperation with the SGC or not, their defeat remains our goal."

"You'd go out on your own?" Sam asked.

"If I had no other alternative. But I'm sure I could find others." He shrugged a little, and set his chopsticks down precisely parallel across the diameter of the plate. "The Tau'ri are not the only people hostile to the Goa'uld. In some ways you are the most effective, but that also means that our knowledge is not as valued here as it would be somewhere else."

She nodded, understanding what he was really saying, in that polite way of his. He realized that the SGC might not let him participate in their operations, and he was too much of a leader and fighter to sit on the sidelines.

But she couldn't promise that either O'Neill or the chain of command above him would be willing to integrate Asheron and Malek. So far, their reluctance to even give Malek a lab to help with the Jaffa tretonin was not a good sign.

"Well, I can't be the only one who learned in the Academy that it's bad strategy to throw away experience," she said finally. "I'm sure they'll come around." Actually, if she had any influence at all, they _would _come around, because the alternative was unacceptable.

"I hope so," he murmured very softly, and she wasn't sure she was supposed to hear. Nor was she sure what he meant, and she wasn't quite bold enough to ask.

So she decided to change the subject, by handing him a fortune cookie. "Here, try one."

"Sam, I cannot possibly eat anything else," he objected. "Malek is already complaining about our blood sugar."

"It's not for eating. It's a fortune cookie. There's a piece of paper inside. We like to say it's where the Ascended Ancients get all their pretentious talk," she cracked it open to show him how. "Here's mine: 'You may receive an unexpected gift'." She rolled her eyes. "See what I mean? I may or I may not, these things don't commit to anything. Go ahead."

He glanced at the slip of paper inside his own and then his gaze met hers. "A beautiful woman demonstrates her friendship with food, and you wish there was someway to repay her, besides bringing her to a distant world of possible danger."

"It does not say that," her voice refused to rise above a whisper, trapped in the depth of his gaze. Deep within, she seemed to come alive with the buzz of anticipation and excitement.

"No," he admitted, "but it's more true. You have been very kind to me."

"I felt I knew you the first time we met," she confessed. "I don't know if it's some subconscious memory from Jolinar or what, but I don't care. I just -- I just want to spend time with you."

"I, ah," for the first time, she saw him without easy, gracious words. He looked earnest and met her eyes boldly, but the words came with difficulty. "It has been a long time -- well, you heard the story so you know what happened. So, forgive my lack of practice -- are you -- will you --"

She leaned across the table and kissed him.

Her position was awkward, so it didn't last long, but it felt right. And, out of practice or not, he was a good kisser, making her want more when they parted. She shoved back her chair and stood, as did he, and only two steps brought them close.

"I should warn you," she murmured, "There's a curse. Men who get involved with me, tend to die."

He took her hand, and slid his other hand around her waist to draw her nearer. "Entire peoples die around me, Sam. I think the two cancel out."

His breath was warm on her neck, where he hovered just over her skin. She asked, "And what does Malek think?"

She could hear the smile in his voice. "He says that we talk too much."

"So, let's stop talking," she suggested, just a little huskily, and joined her mouth to his, surrendering to the desires that had been burning inside her for days.

She discovered there was definitely something to be said for sharing a body with a two thousand year old symbiote with a _lot _of practice.

It was late when she fell asleep against him, exhausted but content.

* * *

Sam awoke, aware that something wasn't quite right. She knew where she was and who ought to be with her, only the bed was empty.

She leaned up on one elbow to look around. By the dim glow of the emergency exit light she saw him at the table, finishing off the Chinese food from one of the cartons. "Asheron."

"He is sleeping," the vibrations of Malek's voice filled the room. He faced her, chopsticks in hand. "I thank you, Samantha. I worried that he would not sleep this night before returning to Naritania."

"Naritania?" she repeated curiously. She remembered Asheron had used that name, but she wasn't sure what it was.

"His former land. It had the Stargate and the grand temple on Inannar," Malek explained. "Ishtar attacked there first when she returned, in order to take possession of the Stargate."

Sam remembered the story. "She hit the palace, right? And that's when Asheron's little girl died."

"Her name was Jisa," Malek said softly. "She was four years old. Asheron found her body, and then Ishtar's Jaffa found him."

She sat up, pulling the sheet with her, though it was a little late for modesty. "That's bad enough, I know, but it seems more than that. Going back -- it really troubles him, doesn't it?

Malek nodded once in agreement. "He will admit to feeling that he failed his people. He also knows that by killing Ishtar, he saved those who remain, but the dead still haunt him. Yet that is not what he fears most." He hesitated, ate a shrimp, and put the carton aside. Sam waited, noting absently how she could tell that a different mind was in control. Malek moved the body differently, similarly but not quite the same.

"As you might guess, Ishtar tortured him," Malek explained simply. "For more than two years, she invented new cruelties to break him to her will. I have done what I can, but there are memories that he holds so deeply that I cannot touch them. Now because he must go back, they are surfacing again. There are images in his mind that I have not seen since we blended. But tonight, at least, no nightmares break his sleep." He bowed his head in gratitude toward her.

Sam swallowed hard, looking at the calm face across from her but imagining him as a Goa'uld prisoner. She and her teammates had endured a lot at the hands of the Goa'uld, but none of them had been captive for two _years_. "How did he survive?" she asked, in a whisper. "How? How did he stay sane?"

"He would tell you he did not, and there is some truth to that," Malek admitted. "The madness of grief and hate helped to shield his spirit from her evil. Yet it was not only that, but his strength of will and mind that refused to surrender. I have never seen a human fight a Goa'uld with such bitter determination."

After a moment, he added reflectively, "In the past, a Tok'ra rarely could find a host with spirit enough to become a true partner. Some of my people did not even seek out strong hosts, preferring their own counsel. But when Asheron and I blended, I discovered Egeria was right: a sharing of two equals is stronger and wiser than either alone. It is a great sadness to me that so few of my kindred ever knew that, and now never will."

"I'm sorry, Malek. For whatever part the Tau'ri played in it, I am really sorry. I wish things hadn't happened this way." She found a small smile to try to lighten things up, and patted the empty space next to her. "Come on. You need to rest too."

"You do not mind?" he asked hesitantly, fearing her revulsion or rejection.

"You and Asheron are a package deal. I learned that with Martouf and Lantash..." A yawn caught her and she fell back to the pillow. "Come here where it's warm."

* * *

In the morning, they had breakfast together in the commissary, as had become their habit. She had to continually remind herself that unless they gave it away, no one would know what had happened the night before.

Still, she blushed when his hand touched hers as he handed her a cup of tea. He smiled at her, with a secret glint in his eyes as he too remembered.

But the moment was broken when Daniel bustled up to their table. "Good morning. I had a couple of questions for Asheron before we leave."

"Of course, Daniel," Asheron gestured him to take the other chair. "Tea?"

"No, thanks," Daniel held up the paper cup in his hand. "I'm more of a coffee guy. I was wondering about the temple." He spread out the MALP photos. "It looks to be quite large."

"It is. There are ten levels. The great hall with the chappa'ai is roughly in the center."

Sam frowned. "So it's more like a cathedral than a pyramid, since it has this huge central chamber."

"It should be a ziggurat," Daniel corrected. "Since we're dealing with a culture descended from the Sumero-Babylonians."

"I don't know what exactly you might call it. We always simply called it the temple," Asheron said with a shrug. "There is a formal staircase from the ground up to the main doors of the great hall on the outside. But there are also doors at ground level into the lower chambers."

"What's on top?" Daniel asked.

"An observation platform and a small shrine. The temple sits within a complex of lesser temples and the priest quarters. However, Malek and I believe that Egeria was not likely to pass beyond the central temple to hide the stasis jar elsewhere. She would not want to put the jar in a place too difficult to later retrieve."

Daniel frowned. "Would she have had time to do something elaborate, like create a hidden chamber?"

"I don't know. Possibly. Ishtar was not very ... attentive," his fingers tightened on the edge of the table, and Sam wished she could touch him, recalling what Malek had said about what he had endured at the Goa'uld's hands.

But his voice was calm and controlled as he continued, "She let a hundred years and sometimes more to pass between visits. Inannar was one of her core worlds, but she never seemed to like staying there."

"Why?" Sam asked. That seemed very odd for a Goa'uld to express such an attitude about her devoted slaves.

"The naquadah mine played out fifteen centuries ago. The climate also shifted, grew colder and wetter, at least in my --" his voice failed and he sipped his tea to cover the lapse. "In Naritania. Perhaps that was part of the reason. She never told me why. Even in her presence, as long as the people genuflected and sent her slaves, she wasn't very observant. Her priests lost power to the secular rulers, so we were able to develop in her absence. But not enough." His gaze was distant. "I had twelve airplanes in military service when she returned. They were no match for the Death Gliders."

Sam was impressed. "You'd achieved flight? That's amazing for a Goa'uld-occupied world."

"This is beside the point," Asheron declared, not acknowledging her statement. "We are going to Inannar to find Egeria's daughter, not relive the past." He drained his cup and stood. "I forgot to tell Teal'c that it would not be wise for him to openly display himself as Jaffa. I will see you both in the embarkation room."

He left the commissary, Sam watching after him, worried. Any relaxation he had found last night was gone, and now the past was weighing heavily on him.

"He's not very Tok'ra like, is he?" Daniel observed, recalling her attention.

"Malek isn't talking right now. Though from what Pierce said when they were all on Raisa, Malek doesn't talk much anyway. Only when Asheron's upset."

"Yeah, seeing what they did would be tough," Daniel said. "I knew things were bad after Revanna, but I never thought that the Tok'ra would basically go extinct. Hopefully we can find this other queen."

"Yeah. It'd be awful if Asheron had to go back for nothing. He really is only going back for Malek. Which is sort of ... sweet, don't you think?"

"You two seem pretty friendly."

And even though she _knew _that Daniel didn't mean anything by it, she blushed and stammered, "Oh, not _friendly_. Just, y'know, friend friendly."

He wasn't fooled and a grin blossomed. "Sam? Is there something you'd like to tell me?"

She lifted her chin. "No, Daniel. There's not. I'll see you in the gateroom in an hour." She beat a hasty retreat, mentally kicking herself for the slip.

But on the plus side, at least it was Daniel. O'Neill would _never _let good taste or politeness get in the way of teasing a teammate.

* * *

In the gateroom O'Neill was waiting to see them off, as the gate turned and the chevrons locked. The wormhole opened and the event horizon stabilized.

O'Neill pulled Sam aside, as she entered. In a low voice -- which she could have told him that Asheron could still hear, if he'd asked -- he told her, "I'm sure his highness over there is going to take charge, Carter. It's his mission and his people, so he's got that right. But if something goes wrong, if there's trouble, Daniel and Teal'c will back you. So don't worry about telling him no."

She hid a smile and bit her tongue from answering that she'd already said yes to Asheron, and just nodded. "Yes, sir."

He escorted her to where the others were waiting. Sam could see the desire to accompany them on his face, before he pushed it aside. "All right, you have a go. I expect a report in twenty-four hours."

"Understood." She nodded and glanced at Asheron. He was kitted out like the rest of them, and had added a baseball cap and wrap-around sunglasses. In an odd way, it was almost as if O'Neill _was _coming with them, since the two were the same height and dressed the same, except that Asheron's only weapon was a zat. He had also borrowed the healing and ribbon devices from the armory and carried them in his vest. "Are you ready?" she asked him.

"Yes. Let's go." He started up the ramp, and everyone else followed. The four passed into the wormhole.

She stepped out and her mouth dropped in awe. The MALP was terrible about showing perspective, and subconsciously she must have expected a temple interior comparable in size to the hall on Abydos. But this one was much, much larger, with the gate atop a dais and still dwarfed by the height of the hall. Asheron had not been clear that the entire top half of the structure was hollow.

It was dim inside, with the only light coming through high window slits, focused on the dais' summit.

The floor was red and white marble, inlaid with gold. Columns radiated off into the darkness. A massive painted stone statue of a gowned woman eight or nine feet tall fronted each column, with writing on each statue's base.

The place was deserted. A thin layer of dust lay on the floor, untouched by feet in many years.

Daniel was first to the floor to look at the writings on the base of the nearest statue. Teal'c followed, odd-looking without his staff and with a cap on his head to cover his mark of Apophis.

Asheron remained at the top.

"You okay?" Sam asked quietly, discreetly touching his hand.

"Just memories," he answered. He sighed and gave her hand a squeeze before letting it go. Walking down the steps, he raised his voice so Daniel and Teal'c could hear. "There are six aisles, forming a hexagonal space. There are numerous alcoves and tunnels in the walls. What we are looking for is a stasis box -- they are commonly found in the form of a canopic jar, but I have also seen them as decorative boxes and statuettes. This area was frequented by priests, Jaffa, minor Goa'uld servants, and Ishtar herself, so I doubt Egeria would have hidden it here. If she did, it will be either well hidden or well disguised. But I believe she must have left further clues in the archives, so I think we will be best-served by getting access to the archive vault."

He started down the aisle at a brisk, determined pace, and Sam hurried after him, waving the other two to stay back.

They reached the great doors, ten feet high but narrow. Asheron put a hand to one half and pushed. It didn't budge. He frowned. "Curious. They were easy to open before."

He put both hands on them and with the great strength available to him as a host, shoved. The doors didn't move.

He stepped back to regard the doors with his arms crossed. "They have been sealed."

"From the outside," she agreed. "That explains why it's deserted. The question is -- is it to keep local people out or gate travelers in?"

"Both, I suspect." By the look on his face he was not about to be thwarted by a pair of doors minutes after arrival. He withdrew the ribbon device and fit it over his hand with a grimace of distaste. "Stand back." She was already moving, taking cover behind the nearest statue.

The jewel glowed and a wave of force exploded out, slamming into the doors. Stone splintered like glass.

Sam ducked behind the base to protect her face from flying shards. When everything settled, she peeked again and saw that Asheron was already halfway out the hole he'd created, bright sunlight streaming around him.

She followed, ducking past broken edges of stone and picking her way through the rubble. Then she stopped, caught by the view.

They stood high enough that an amazing vista spread out before them. A city of broad avenues, trees, and low buildings stretched to the horizon. She heard a low drone and glanced up to see a small prop-engine airplane.

"It's rebuilt," Asheron murmured in wonder, just loud enough for her to hear. "It's ... beautiful."

He realized she was there and explained, "The last time I stood here, the city was in ruins."

Sam nodded, realizing that of course Asheron and Malek had left via the Stargate. No wonder he had been hit with memories on the gate platform.

"The temple grounds are also deserted," he observed, peering down the vast number of steps to the ground, at the lower buildings and the gardens within the high walls. "The gates must be closed. It seems that Ishtar's death also killed her worship, after all." He smiled, very satisfied, but the smile quickly vanished. "This may make it more difficult to find one of the priests."

"Especially without revealing your identity." She shook her head at his quick glance of surprise. "Sunglasses and a cap? It's an old ploy, at least on Earth."

He looked a little chagrined to have been figured out. "I would prefer not to be recognized. I will not stay, whether we find what we seek or not."

"You won't?" She felt a little silly by how pleased she was by that, and how much she wanted to be sure he meant it. "Even if they ask? If we're not successful, at least then you'd be home again."

"No, Sam. Naritania is not my home. I am Tok'ra now. Asheron may still live, but the king died long ago."

Watching him, tall and proud against the afternoon sunlight and looking at the kingdom he had once ruled, Sam wasn't so sure.


	4. Remembering

The four walked down the two hundred and thirty-two steps of the temple and set off to find information and some priests.

Sam had debated leaving Daniel and Teal'c in the pyramid-cathedral-ziggurat to start searching, but with the political situation unknown, she figured it was better that they all keep together until they learned what was going on.

Although the main gates were blocked by large pieces of broken masonry, Asheron found a side door which he intended to ribbon open, until Sam stepped in and demonstrated her much quieter lock-picking skills.

They emerged into a quiet residential street, where the few pedestrians barely gave them a glance. At first Asheron was tense, but as they walked and it seemed his disguise held, he relaxed.

There were still a few places where the rubble -- tumbled stone and brick mostly -- was still lying around, but only on scattered vacant lots. The city had obviously been planned and rebuilt with a unified system at work. The boulevards were straight and wide, lined with trees. The buildings tended to three or four stories, with shops on the ground level with apartments above.

Asheron paused at a corner market. "Here. I'm going in."

Within were four aisles of goods and a butcher counter in the back. The shop looked like any small city grocery that Sam had ever been in.

Asheron found a pile of newspapers and lifted off the top. Since the local language was not a Goa'uld script, Sam had no hope to read it herself, and gathered close to Asheron to hear his translation.

"There is a council now and prime minister," he murmured. "No mention of any other ruling person. Interesting, it has actually been thirty-one years since her death. We must have lost track somewhere." He leafed through the paper swiftly. "The usual business and sports. The economy appears strong. There are tensions with Kantar over trade." He snorted and put the paper back. "There have _always _been tensions with Kantar, over something."

Daniel listened and then broke away from them to approach the man behind the butcher counter. He was a tall man, gray haired, thin but sinewy, with a pleasant broad face framed by sausages and a ham hanging behind him.

"Can I help you, folks?"

"I hope so," Daniel gave his usual I'm-very-friendly-and-clueless smile. "We're not from around here. We noticed that the temple grounds are closed."

"Of course," the man said, as if Daniel had declared that water was wet. "The pretender goddess is dead. There's no need to fake our faith any more. The temple was closed years ago." The butcher frowned. "What would you want to go there for anyway?"

Sam held her breath, waiting for Daniel's story. Sometimes he told too much of the truth and got them into trouble.

"We're not interested in Ishtar so much as her library," Daniel explained, with wide-eyed earnestness. "Our families left Naritania after the attack, but we believe there are documents in the temple archives that we need. Would you have any idea how we might get access? What happened to the priests?"

"Most are dead," the butcher answered. "The rest are probably still in prison."

"They're in _prison_?" Daniel demanded.

The older man misunderstood his shock. "I know, but Prime Minister Elnor said there had been too much death already."

Asheron took a step forward. "Elnor?" he repeated. "Elnor Razhidev, former Defense Minister?"

His voice was very tight, and Sam could see that his fists were clenched behind his back.

The butcher took a step back from the barely disguised fury. "Yes, yes. He was the first prime minister after the liberation. Of course, he retired years ago."

Asheron moved back to the door and turned his back, feigning interest in a small yellow fruit.

The butcher looked back at Daniel. "I'm sure you'd need a government official to get access to the temple. Sorry I can't help more," he said, eyeing Asheron and eager for them to leave.

"Thank you," Daniel said. "You've been very helpful. We'll just go through official channels."

Out in the street, Daniel confronted Asheron. "Your own Defense Minister threw the priests in _prison_?"

"Daniel," Sam warned, "We don't know --"

But the Tok'ra interrupted her, biting off each word. "Of course he imprisoned them all. He was the one who betrayed the rebellion to Ishtar. They might know that."

"Then perhaps we should pay a visit to this Elnor," Teal'c declared, his deep voice making it sound very much a threat.

"A very good idea," Asheron agreed.

Sam hesitated. "Maybe we should try the current administration?" she suggested. The same man had betrayed his king and people to the Goa'uld, and then put himself in power after both were gone. No one knew of his treachery. It made her sick. But how much help could a traitor be? She explained in answer to Asheron's furious glare, "He betrayed you once. What's to keep him from doing it again?"

"Exposure," Asheron replied flatly. "Men with secrets can be blackmailed."

"You'd have to reveal your identity to expose him," she pointed out the flaw in his plan.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Well, he doesn't have to know that's a problem, does he? Come; his family owned a villa on the north side of the river. It still existed when I left."

He started down the sidewalk. Daniel and Teal'c looked to her, to find out whether they should follow. But there was really no question in her mind about what she should do. She could scarcely allow him to confront his betrayer alone. So she went after him.

Their odd clothes, probably because they were obviously uniforms, drew some looks, as did Teal'c's size, but no one approached them.

Sam found the walk pleasant. The air was fall-like, sunny with a nip in the air, especially as the afternoon moved toward evening. The wide boulevards carried small boxy motorcars and larger trucks, and still a few carts and horses. Traffic picked up as the work day ended and more people were on the boulevards, shopping the stores that fronted the streets.

Something glinted on the sidewalk at her feet and she scooped it up, discovering it was a dropped coin. The silver had tarnished a little, but it had not been on the street long.

"Oh my God," she grinned delightedly, rubbing at one side. "Asheron, it's you. Check it out."

She handed it to him. "Yes, it's the official --" he stopped and held it up to the sun to read the markings. "It's dated last year. I thought it was one of the old coins, but this is newly minted."

He gave it to Daniel, who also wanted to see.

Sam shrugged. "Well, we put dead presidents on our money. You're not dead, but they don't know that. It's probably a memorial thing. Give it here." She took it back and tucked it securely in her pocket. "I've never known anyone with their picture on a coin before."

"But then they don't blame me," he whispered, looking and sounding dazed.

Paying no attention to anyone else, including Daniel and Teal'c, she took his hand. "Asheron, the only one who blames you is you. It wasn't your fault she came back, and it wasn't your fault that she killed people. That's what evil bitch queen Goa'uld's _do _and they don't need help from anybody. Just let it go," she urged softly. "It's not your fault."

He inhaled a long breath and let it out slowly. "You're right. Malek's right. I know that. But I need to think." His head drooped and when he looked up again, Malek was in residence. He still used Asheron's voice, but it was definitely Malek.

"Well spoken, Samantha. He seems to finally believe us. Come, let us go find the traitor."

Early evening wrapped the estate in golden light, sifting through the tall, old trees on the estate. The wall was high enough to block any view of the house or grounds, except from the front where a wrought-iron gate blocked the driveway.

The team joined up on the corner within view of the gate after Sam and Teal'c quickly reconnoitered the four sides.

"So, are we gonna knock on the door?" Daniel asked, without much hope that that's what they were actually going to do.

"The defenses are weak, particularly on the river," Teal'c said. "We may enter unobserved."

"We could just use the story Daniel concocted and ask to see him," Sam suggested. "If he won't, then we sneak in."

_I want to crash through his window,_ Asheron muttered to Malek.

_That is not wise,_ the symbiote answered. _He is old. Such violent confrontation may bring about heart failure._

_How sad,_ Asheron said spitefully, but sighed, giving in.

Aloud Malek said, "Very well. Daniel?" He gestured Daniel to precede them to the guardhouse, and pulled his cap low over his sunglasses. From what he could see, the guards were too young to truly remember, but with Asheron's face on all the money, it would not be difficult to recognize him.

Daniel approached the armed guard with a broad smile.

_This will never work,_ Asheron complained.

Malek responded with characteristic patience. _It may. We must give him a chance. Has it not been interesting to watch him in action on this mission?_

"Good evening," Daniel greeted the guard. "My name is Daniel Jackson. My friends and I would like to see former Prime Minister Elnor. It's rather urgent and we've come a long way."

The guard, an unimpressed uniformed man, started to brush them off, but Teal'c stepped forward. The guard looked up, and up, and looked a little more interested. Teal'c said, "It is very important."

"You must make an appointment. Prime Minister Elnor is a busy man," the guard attempted the dismissal again.

Sam tried her most charming smile, and Asheron hoped that Elnor happened to be watching through the camera mounted on the post. "Please, we need his help to access the temple archives. We've come all this way, and we need those family documents. We won't take much of his time, I promise. We just don't know where else to turn."

_Impressive,_ Malek commented. _She has great charm when she wishes, does she not? Oh, but I need not ask you, do I?_

Asheron endured his symbiote's teasing with equanimity. _It's not all me, my little eel._

The guard agreed to ask and went back into the guard house to radio up to the house. When he came back out, he looked a little surprised but invited politely, "The Prime Minister can spare a few minutes. We will escort you to the house."

_'It was the smile,'_ Asheron said, as they all went up the drive.

Malek knew perfectly well that his host was attempting to distract himself from the forthcoming confrontation and played along. _Indeed, capable of slaying Tok'ra and guards alike._

The trees and gardens seemed only a little changed since Asheron had last come this way, and the last curve that opened up to reveal the house was exactly the same. Two floors high, the blank front façade had only two narrow windows and a large entryway, but the house was inward-directed to a series of courtyards and interior gardens. Old Naritanian architecture still held elements of its desert roots.

The guards took them in through the front door and into a high-ceiling hall, passing through two connected rooms and into a study. The room was full of high shelves of books, a comfortable set of chairs, and a desk before a window overlooking the garden.

An old man with silver hair turning white and small glasses sat behind the desk but rose to his feet when they entered. "Welcome," he smiled, a politician's practiced turn of the lips. "I'm always glad to see expatriates return to Naritania."

His gaze slid over all four of them, settling on Daniel as the leader. Asheron stayed to the back, hiding behind his glasses, cap, and Teal'c. He didn't get a second look.

Daniel cleared his throat. "Thank you for seeing us."

"The guards mentioned something about temple access. Young man, the temple closed thirty years ago after the death of the pretender goddess ..."

Just looking at Elnor made Asheron's breath catch in his chest, and listening to that familiar voice speak in a kindly tone caused an instant wave of nausea. His blood started pounding in his ears, and his vision whited out, as the past overcame the present:

__

"Kneel before Her Radiance," the Jaffa orders, and he does. He needs the relative freedom of cooperation, needs her to believe him broken. So he kneels and bows his head to the floor, waiting for her to tell him to rise. It doesn't happen immediately, long enough for a chill from the stone floor to penetrate his skin. He wears only a kilt and sandals, as she prefers, and he is always cold on her ship.

He hears her rise from her throne and start down the steps of her dais. "So obedient, beloved. You show such adoration for your goddess."

When he hears that honeyed tone of her voice, the entirely different cold of fear skitters down his spine. She is angry, and when that anger comes down on him it is always bad. But he tries not to react.

She paces closer, so her jeweled sandals come into his view. Abruptly she has a hand in his hair and yanks his head back, so he can look into her face. Her eyes flash with golden light. "But it is false, isn't it, you worm?"

He opens his mouth to deny it and declare his devotion to her, but over her shoulder he sees something that makes the lie shrivel on his tongue unspoken.

Elnor is standing there, by the pillar near the throne. He is **standing**. No one stands in her presence, unless they have her favor. Elnor refuses to meet his gaze.

Asheron's breath is sucked into the black hole which has opened in his stomach. No, this cannot be happening. Elnor can't have betrayed him, can't betray the rebellion like this.

But Ishtar's spiteful smile tells him otherwise. "Oh yes, little king. The servant turned on his master, just as you turned on me." Her hand grabs him around the neck and picks him up, effortlessly dangling him off the floor. He wheezes for breath and his own hands rise instinctively to try to pull her hand away but it is like pulling stone.

"You will be punished, ungrateful rebellious traitor," she hisses. "You will suffer. And then you will die, and then suffer again. You will beg me for permanent death, but I will not give it to you, until I am convinced that you worship me with every breath in your body. But everyone else in your insignificant little kingdom will die."

He hears a new voice, oddly familiar, but not one that belongs here. The voice is scarcely louder than a whisper and far away, "Asheron! Asheron, no."

But he can only see the brilliantly glowing red jewel in the palm of her hand. The light fills his vision, turns it bloody, even as the pain stabs into his head. Suddenly he is on fire, flames of agony roasting his flesh and burning his bones. There is no place to hide.

That other voice is more urgent, a little louder, "Asheron, follow my voice. I can't pull you out without your help. You're too deep. Asheron!"

He feels sorry the voice is so upset, but he can't move. There is a force pushing him down, dragging him into the darkness. And he knows what it is, because he's been there before.

Death.

He doesn't try to save himself, doesn't struggle, because at least there will be an end. No matter how temporary it is, he remembers that these moments between the darkness of death and the light of the sarcophagus, are moments without pain. They are the only respite he has.

He lets go and falls into an infinity of nothing.

His eyes opened.

He knew he was alive, and he knew where he was, but he still felt the cold of death surrounding him like a shroud of ice.

_Asheron?_ That was Malek, very worried.

_I'm fine._

It was a lie, and Malek surely knew it was a lie. But that didn't matter.

"Enough," he spoke aloud, barely a whisper, but it silenced Elnor's inane conversation anyway. Asheron took out his zat and zapped each of the guards once. They fell to the ground. Elnor's eyes widened and he grasped his chair with one hand. But unless he chose to jump through the colored glass window at his back, there was nowhere to go.

Asheron handed the zat to Teal'c and stepped forward stripping off his cap and sunglasses. In a tone stripped of all life and warmth, he asked, "Do you know me, Elnor?"

Elnor's mouth dropped open, and he turned pale as milk. "It cannot be," he whispered.

"Oh yes, it is." Asheron tossed his glasses on the desk, and Elnor twitched violently at the soft click. "Imagine my surprise, Elnor, to discover that the man who betrayed me, the man who betrayed all Naritania, managed to make himself Prime Minister. They don't know, do they? For thirty years, you've kept it secret -- that you're a traitor."

Elnor trembled. "No, my lord. No, that's not -- you have to believe -- it was all for you."

"And was betraying the rebellion to Ishtar also for me?" Asheron snarled. He rounded the edge of the desk, furious, with death in his eyes.

_No!_ Malek protested. _If you kill him, we shall be imprisoned. Perhaps killed ourselves. And we will never find the queen._

He stopped, as if frozen. His fingers ached with the desire to break Elnor's neck, but he couldn't do it. Malek was right. He was not here to avenge old wrongs -- he was here to find the queen and save the Tok'ra. No matter how angry he was.

"It doesn't matter anymore," the words almost refused to come out, trapped in a throat that still burned from Ishtar's hand around it. "I am here for one purpose. I require access to the temple archives."

"Why?" Elnor blurted curiously.

He stiffened, drawing himself up, and found refuge in the royal tones of Asheron the Third. "That is none of your concern. I also require a priest familiar with the archives to attend me. Actually, I require all the priests to be set free. I am appalled that you imprisoned them to protect your secret. And I want this tonight."

Elnor did not object. He just seemed dazed as he bowed. "Anything, my lord. I'm just so glad to see you again. I thought -- I was sure you'd been killed in the crash, my lord," he explained, not raising his head. "I didn't believe the stories of you walking through the city. I was so sure -- and I realized I should have had more faith. You won, my lord, when I never believed it was possible. So I made sure they remembered."

The pleading note in his voice got to everyone, even Asheron, who stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. "I just came back for this one thing. I have no interest in telling anyone I have returned, and I certainly have no interest in resurrecting the monarchy. Do these things, I will find what I need, and I will never return."

"As you wish, my lord." Elnor bowed again, and then gazed up in amazement. "You look scarcely a day older, Your Highness. How?"

"The same reason I'm not dead."

Elnor accepted that he wasn't going to get more of an explanation. Glancing at a mechanical clock on his desk, he seemed to wilt. "It grows late, my lord. I cannot do all that you require tonight."

"Tomorrow then."

"I will do what I can. In the meantime, my lord, please accept my hospitality. You and your companions can eat and --"

"No, I will not share salt with you, Elnor," Asheron snapped.

The old man flinched as if slapped. "Of course, my lord." But he rallied quickly. "Perhaps a hotel. Surely you cannot object to the Ivara Hotel. It was rebuilt, very lovely."

"That would be perfect," Sam intervened with a smile. "We would love a hotel. And if you would be good enough to provide transportation -- we've walked a long way."

"Of course, of course. I will take care of everything. Please make yourselves comfortable. I will be back shortly." He started out and paused to regard the stirring guards. "If you put them in the hall, I will inform them you meant no harm to me."

Teal'c dragged the two out and rejoined the others in the study.

"Won't eat salt with him?" Sam asked Asheron. "It was an insult, I know, but why?"

Asheron shrugged. His arms were folded tightly and he looked both irritated and tired.

Daniel speculated, "Bread and salt, like in Russia. In Western Europe, the ritual evolved into --"

"Daniel," Sam nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. "Never mind." She jerked her chin toward Asheron, and Daniel realized she had meant the question as a distraction.

It was Malek who spoke. "At the hotel we can regroup, and start fresh in the morning."


	5. Ashes of a Past Life

The hotel was in the city center, one of the tallest structures with ten floors. It had arched windows and balconies fronting the street. White-garbed bellhops rushed to open the doors, and an older gentleman greeted them in the flower-decked lobby with an effusive grin. "Welcome, Ambassador."

Sam grinned as Daniel looked behind him, thinking the hotel manager was talking to someone else. But her teammate recovered and played along. What the manager thought the rest of them to be, Sam had no idea, but he didn't let it get in the way of welcoming Prime Minister Elnor's special guest. He never looked twice at Asheron in his cap and sunglasses, even though there was a portrait of the former ruler on the wall behind the main desk.

Sam went to take a closer look at the print. Asheron the king was wearing a dark blue, military-looking uniform with silver braid at his collar and shoulders, silver buttons, and a sash across his chest of matching silver and blue. His hair had been shorter, his face a little fuller, but the biggest difference was that he looked more innocent. Though he wasn't smiling in it, the photograph had been taken in happier times, before he had seen so much death and suffering that put a permanent shadow across his face. A symbiote could halt physical aging but not, apparently, emotional.

A hotel employee bustled up. He was one of the bellhops or concierge or something, a young man in a white uniform. "Is there anything I can help you with, Madame?"

She pointed at the portrait, curious what he would say. "Who is that?"

The young man turned worshipful eyes on the portrait. "The Last King. Asheron the Third. He freed us from the pretender goddess." He leaned closer to Sam and confided, with a glance at his boss, "My mother saw him walking through the city after the big ship crashed. Other people don't believe, but we know he's out there, somewhere, ready to save us if the pretender gods come back."

Sam smiled gently at the bellhop, who was too young to remember Asheron personally, but clearly still had faith. "I believe you. I heard that he was carried out to the stars, to fight the other pretenders on other worlds."

The young man's eyes widened. "Really?"

A hint of irritation in his voice, Asheron called from the other end of the hall, where he and the others were waiting. "Sam, we're ready."

In the elevator, the manager smiled at her. "I see you noticed our print of Last King Asheron."

She couldn't help a glance at Asheron, who was standing in the farthest corner, cap pulled down low and his face turned mostly to the wall, feigning interest in the flower pattern of the wallpaper.

"Yes," she said finally. "Your employee explained to me who he is."

"Was," he corrected her, and he let out a small sigh, losing his mantle of host for just a moment for the real man beneath. "I know there was no body found, but I think that those who believe that he's somewhere out there waiting to save us again, are just wishful thinking. What he did while alive was amazing enough, I don't see we have to elevate him to a god in her place."

An alarming strangled cough came from the back corner, and Sam quickly said, "I'm sure he wouldn't like that."

Teal'c added, though Sam didn't think he was helping, "Perhaps both beliefs are right, that he is not a god, but fights the false gods in the heavens."

Sam thought it was amazing that the three SG-1 members managed not to look at Asheron again.

The elevator doors opened, preventing further conversation. The manager escorted them down the hall to a pair of double doors, and opened them for the group. Within, he showed them around the two bedroom suite -- ironically, named the Last King Suite -- on the top floor. The spacious rooms were furnished in what seemed to be Naritanian Modern, a quasi-Art Nouveau design of simple curves and lines. She suspected it was a reaction to the typically gaudy Goa'uld preference. But the chairs were comfortable, the beds and bathtubs were huge, and the dining table could easily seat ten. There were French doors from the main room to a balcony overlooking the garden and city beyond.

"Evening meal will arrive shortly, Ambassador," the manager promised and made himself scarce.

The promised dinner consisted of seven courses and enough food to feed at least a platoon, if not a division. But it was tasty and Sam enjoyed trying all the different dishes.

She noticed that Asheron only picked at his, even though it had to be food he had eaten in childhood. He looked pale and distracted, not responding with more than a word or two to anyone's attempt at conversation. He soon excused himself and went out on the balcony.

Daniel waited until the doors closed and Asheron was out of earshot, then raised his brows and waved a hand toward the doors. "So, Sam, you and him?"

She couldn't help a little smile as she caught sight of him, standing against the lights of the city. "Yeah," she admitted. "Me and him." She glanced at Teal'c, who seemed to be accepting the news without surprise. She rested her elbows on the table and looked from one to the other, suddenly worried. "You're not mad, are you?"

Daniel's astonishment was answer enough, but he said, "No, of course not, Sam. I'm glad for you. Especially after Pete..." he trailed off delicately, and Teal'c filled in the awkward silence.

"As am I. I was not aware that you held strong feelings toward the Tok'ra Malek before."

"I didn't, not when we met. But I liked him, and admired him. Or them, I suppose," she corrected herself, remembering that there were two personalities she was talking about. "But these past two weeks, getting to know him --" she couldn't repress another smile, "I can talk science, and he listens. I can talk military stuff, and he doesn't shrink away. And he lets me be a woman, without making me think that it's somehow disappointing. He gets the whole package and he's still interested. I don't have to _explain _who I am, I can just ... be," she ended limply, unsure if she had found the right words, when she didn't really understand it herself.

Teal'c smiled gently at her, benevolently, in one of the rare moments when she remembered that he was the oldest person in the room. "Then I am more than glad for you. I have watched as many have pursued you, but it seemed that they rarely saw you for who you are. It is good that the Tok'ra does."

"Thanks, Teal'c."

Teal'c inclined his head, and she resisted the urge to ruffle his hair as she stood up.

Daniel caught her hand. "Sam, I would never be mad that you're happy. You deserve it."

She bent to kiss his cheek. "You do too."

Slipping out through the doors, she inhaled the crisp air, which was laced with a fruity flowery scent from the gardens below, and joined Asheron at the railing.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He took a moment to answer, watching the city lights or the reddish half moon above the rooftops. "No," he admitted. "Not really. It's hard to believe that so much has changed. Everything but me, at least. I don't think I'm all that different from the boy who used to watch the stars from my balcony."

She smiled slightly, imagining him as a child, looking up at the stars with the same sense of wonder as she had as a little girl. Until his next words erased that romantic image.

His voice softened. "I would watch for hours, convinced that if I looked long and hard enough I would be able to see the ship coming. Somehow I _knew _she would return, that the stories would come true in my lifetime. It was a feeling I never lost. When I came to power, I built a new observatory for the astronomers. I wanted warning, you see." He chuckled once bitterly. "Two hours -- that was my warning. It was just enough time to realize what was going to happen, but not enough time to do anything."

She realized the tragic difference between growing up on Earth and growing up on a Goa'uld occupied world. He had been a privileged child, probably given anything that he wanted, but not allowed the wonder of the night sky, because of the Goa'uld.

"I'm sorry," she murmured and leaned her head against his shoulder. "It seems unfair that Earth was spared all this suffering by the Goa'uld."

"No," he answered, wrapping one hand around her waist to keep her close. "The Tau'ri have become strong and helped many others win their freedom. You should be proud, Sam."

She smiled a little at his rather patrician tone. When they had first met at the Alpha Site, she had attributed Malek's occasional condescension to Tok'ra arrogance, but now she suspected it was also an artifact of Asheron's past. Between the two, it was a wonder that their presence was even bearable.

"I saw the king today, didn't I?" she asked. "With Elnor."

Unexpectedly he smiled. "You did. Malek has called me nothing but 'your highness' since."

She laughed, even more amused by the revelation that the symbiote was not above needling his host. "I didn't realize that Malek had a sense of humor."

"He doesn't," Asheron replied promptly and flinched as though he'd been stuck with a pin. "Well, he doesn't. But he has a highly developed sense of irony." He shook his head once. "I tend to imitate my father at his most imperious when I'm angry."

"And you were very angry at Elnor."

His grip tightened, his fingers gripping her hip painfully. "I know he was afraid of her, and he didn't realize what form her retaliation would take. But he was there when she ribboned me to death. The man I trusted the most to help me overthrow her, the man who first told me about the ship in the heavens -- he told her everything."

She swallowed hard, struck by the matter-of-fact way that he spoke of being tortured to death. "God, I'm sorry, Asheron." She turned into him, sliding her hands around his waist. He echoed her movement, holding her close. "But at least he seems to have tried to do the right thing afterward. He felt sorry about it."

"Sorry? No, I think not. Guilty, perhaps." He looked over her shoulder, toward the city lights, and let out a sad sigh. "It's all different now, but I still see what happened."

"It's in the past. And when we find the new queen, we'll get out of here," she tried to console him. "But for now, y'know, too much brooding is bad for your health." She tugged on his hand, pulling him toward the balcony doors of the second bedroom.

"But Daniel and Teal'c --" he objected, hesitating.

"They already know, and they don't mind," she reassured him and twined a hand around the back of his neck to bring him in for a lingering kiss.

She whispered, "Let me show you the good part of coming home."

* * *

  
_The air was so hot. So dry she couldn't swallow. Her tongue felt swollen, and her lips and the skin of her face felt stretched and cracked. Sulfurous reek clogged her nose, and each breath was a struggle._

She had forgotten where she was. She had forgotten why she was still struggling, still trying to stay alive. There was a part of her that just wanted to let go and let it finally end.

But she kept going, spurred on by the memory of bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Even that was soon so hard to hold, as thirst and exhaustion and injury overwhelmed her strong will. The darkness encroached a little further.

Then, just when it seemed that there was no return, a cool breeze and precious water between her lips brought her back. And she opened her eyes.

The face was not the one she dreamed of, nor was it the face of her nightmares, but it was familiar. A face of thoughtful expression and warm brown eyes too often dark with sorrow hovered above her. He knew, she realized. He knew everything. But there was no judgment there, only understanding.

His hand was gentle on her face. "Rest, Jolinar. You're safe now."

Comforted by his presence, sheltered by his strength, she let her eyes close and sleep overtake her.

Sam awoke in the dimness, momentarily confused about where and _who _she was, but as the intensity of the dream-memory faded, she knew.

She sat up carefully, so as not to wake Asheron beside her. Her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, spreading diffuse silvery glow through the gauzy curtains, and she could see him lying there. He was asleep on his back, the sheet wrapped around his waist with an arm and foot hanging off the far side of the bed. And his face was the same that Jolinar had woken up to, after Netu.

He stirred then, and opened his eyes, instantly alert and alarmed. "Sam?" he whispered and turned his head to find her. The alarm faded, but concern replaced it. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "I had a dream," she explained. "Well, more of a memory. From Jolinar. You saved her, didn't you? After Netu?"

He sat up too, drawing his knees up to clasp with his hands, and took his time about answering. He had the air of someone who had expected but dreaded this discussion. "Malek and I found her shuttle and helped her, on the way to the base. She and Rosha were very ill."

"You knew how she escaped." It wasn't a question. Jolinar had believed that he knew everything.

"She had said certain things in delirium which I put together," he answered. "It was not difficult."

"But you didn't tell Martouf."

"No. She asked me -- no, she _begged _me not to tell him. I couldn't betray her confidence." He took a deep breath and added, "He knew that something awful had happened, and I think he guessed the truth. I expected that she would tell him, eventually. But, of course, they ran out of 'eventually' and it was too late."

"He found out from me," she said, remembering his eyes when she had confirmed what he had always suspected. "On our trip to Netu to rescue Dad. He was so upset, Asheron. It was awful."

He laid his hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, Sam. Malek wanted me to tell you earlier --"

"No, it's all right," she interrupted. "I haven't remembered anything new from Jolinar in a long time. She trusted you, she felt safe. It was a good memory."

She nudged her way beneath his arm and snuggled beneath it, tucking next to his warmth.

After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again softly, "I'm falling for you so quickly. Part of me feels like I should step back, catch my breath..."

"If that's what you want -- "

"No," she tightened her grip on him so he couldn't move away and looked into his gaze. "No, I don't. Not really. God, Asheron, if there's one thing we know, it's that life is short. There's no time to be afraid, not for people like us."

"But people like us are also the most afraid," he murmured. "We know how easy it is to lose." He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head. "I married relatively young," he said and though she didn't move, she pricked up her ears to listen curiously. He had spoken so little about his past, and she was intensely interested in the story he was going to tell. "Arvalle was the daughter of a rancher who owned land not far from where the military trained in the mountains. I met her when I had to negotiate passage for my unit." He smiled, remembering. "She was a tough little thing. Unimpressed by me or my father. I'd never met anyone like her before. We married less than two years later. Back then I never dreamed that anyone could take her away from me."

His grip on her tightened, and his voice softened. "But of course it wasn't true. Bit by bit, all I had was stripped away -- my mother first, then my father, our baby girl, Arvalle, and after her ... everything ..." He trailed off and for a moment was silent.

He shook his head once, as if to clear it. "Then I met Malek, and my life became so different, it was as if it all had happened to someone else. But my point is, for thirty years I haven't dared get too close, especially to another Tok'ra, for fear that they would be taken away from me too. Now they're all gone, and my fear made no difference whatsoever."

He turned to her, and his fingers brushed the hair back from her face and trailed down her cheek. "I don't want to die, having forgotten what it was like to care for someone. I don't want to miss anything else, Sam."

She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. It was easier to talk, just feeling him there but not seeing anyone else. "I'm so tired of losing people," she whispered. "I was close to Martouf, and he died. So I concentrated on work. And then I decided to try again and there was Pete. He wasn't a part of my world, but it reached out and took him anyway." She opened her eyes and met his. She knew she was pleading, but she couldn't help it. "I need you to stay. If we're going on with this, I can't take losing someone else, not so soon."

He folded her into his arms and she hugged him back tightly. With just about anyone else she would have tried to swallow back the tears welling in her eyes, but with him, she let them run down her face silently.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam," he stroked her hair. "I'm here as long as you want me."

As Jolinar had before her, Sam felt safe with him, and let herself grieve for Pete and Martouf. When her tears stopped and she felt exhausted and hollow, she rested her head on his shoulder, and draped an arm across his chest. He tucked the blanket around her and they drifted back to sleep.


	6. The Search Begins

In the morning, after Sam had showered and dressed, she went out into the main room to find the men. The three were sitting at the dining table, which had been set for breakfast. Asheron was reading a newspaper to Daniel, showing him how to read the words. If the three of them had any conversation about her -- the brotherly warnings she half-expected Teal'c and Daniel to deliver on her behalf -- it had already passed.

Nor did Teal'c or Daniel react oddly to seeing her emerge from the same room that Asheron had. They just treated her exactly as if she'd come out of her tent on a mission.

"Morning, Sam, we saved you breakfast," Daniel waved her to the chair on Asheron's other side, laid with a place setting and in front of several covered dishes, a bowl of various fruits, and a plate of rolls.

"Elnor sent a message," Asheron told her, nodding toward a folded piece of paper by his tea cup. "In another hour, his driver will take us all to the temple where the former archivist will be waiting."

She raised her brows, impressed. "He's certainly efficient."

"I am sure he would prefer me gone," Asheron suggested dryly, "though one would never know it from the very florid language of his message."

"Afraid you're going to stick around and reveal his dirty little secret?" Daniel pulled the newspaper over to have it wholly to himself and mouth the words of a translation.

"Afraid I intend to reclaim my position and order his execution, more probably," Asheron shook his head in rueful amusement and poured tea for Sam.

She put a honey roll and several pieces of fruit on her plate. "That's a lot of temple to look in. I hope the archivist can help us find some clue."

"Well, at least I think I can help now," Daniel commented, not looking up from the newspaper. "Asheron gave me a lesson on the writing system, and it isn't as odd as I thought."

"All right. So then you two will work the archive," Sam said. "Teal'c and I will use the sensors I brought to look for power sources, although, God knows, I'll have to be on top of it with all that stone around."

Teal'c said, "I noticed there were transport rings behind the Stargate platform. Are there other sets within the temple?"

Asheron frowned. "We did not see any others except those on her ha'tak. However, a temple that size likely would contain others. Egeria could have used them to access wherever she wished. There are interior stairs as well, and many chambers. This will not be easy."

"Well, we've got at least until Dad gets here, plus some more after that." Sam took two more of the little yellow fruits that tasted like guava. "I've got to report in at noon."

Teal'c had picked up a portion of the newspaper and his attention was captured by a large photo of a man holding two sticks. "What is this?"

The question launched Asheron into an enthusiastic description of a ball game that sounded like a fast version of croquet or a variation of lacrosse.

Sam tuned it out to watch him, smiling to herself as he stood and demonstrated some of the moves to Teal'c. He was a handsome man, especially when he brightened with some passion.

"Sam?"

"Hm?" she roused out of her reverie to find Daniel looking at her, across Asheron's now empty chair, with an amused, tolerant expression.

"You've got it bad," he murmured. She stuck out her tongue at him and then tried to look somewhere else.

But she knew he was right. Asheron was taking up her thoughts and feelings, so that she felt almost giddy around him, as she hadn't felt in a long time. Her fingers itched with the urge to touch him, run her fingers through his hair and smooth away his worry.

She contented herself with reaching for the teapot, sure that he would also reach for it to pour for her. And he did, fingers closing over her own. Their gazes caught and held.

Daniel commented to Teal'c. "They're like teenagers, aren't they?"

"Indeed. It is most refreshing to watch."

Sam just had to laugh. "Okay, okay. Mind on the mission."

Asheron smiled at her, and didn't let go of her hand. "I rather like your mind where it is." He lifted her fingers to his lips, but then reluctantly, relinquished her hand. "We should get ready. Today is going to be a busy day."

* * *

The massive ziggurat loomed over the western side of the city, growing larger as their hired car approached. The sunlight's rays caught the flat top of the structure and reflected too brightly to be ordinary stone, probably glass or metal, and then the light seemed to pour down the ceremonial steps like a river of molten gold.

Not for the first time, Sam thought what a waste it was that the Goa'uld could turn such beauty to evil ends.

The motorcar stopped outside the northern gate and the four got out.

An old man, wiry and bald, wearing simple gray trousers and matching short-sleeved tunic, was waiting for them.

He was the first person whose eyes went straight to Asheron and, despite the hat and glasses, recognized him. He ignored everyone else to bow deeply. "My lord, you have returned as the goddess promised. Do you bring a message from her?" His eagerness was sparkling, and just a little mad. "Is she returning soon?"

Asheron stared at the priest unblinking for several seconds. When he spoke, he ignored the priest's question. "I remember you. Jabaroth is your name, is it not?"

The priest bobbed his head. "Yes, my lord. But please, you do bring word of her return, yes? The Radiant One is coming soon?"

"No," Asheron answered flatly. "Not soon."

Sam, worried that he was going to tell the priest that Ishtar was dead, grabbed his arm in warning. It never turned out well when SG-1 tried to tell devout believers that their gods were dead or false. This priest was here to help them, and they couldn't afford to offend him.

Jabaroth's head and shoulders sank in disappointment, but his gaze alertly settled on her hand on Asheron's arm. "She will not be pleased if you have a different consort, my lord."

The muscles of his arm turned taut under her fingers. In a chilly voice, he said, "I consort with whomever I wish, Jabaroth. You were brought here to help us search the archive. That is all. Lead the way."

"It has been many years," Jabaroth said, with a sly glance as if searching for incentive.

"Teal'c, please refresh his memory," Asheron stepped aside for Teal'c, who did his usual I'm-a-big-scary-Jaffa thing, looming over the smaller priest. To no one's surprise, the priest gave in.

"Oh yes, I remember. This way. The old archive is deep within the temple." The old man was amazingly spry as he picked his way across the uneven paving stones leading to the side of the giant ziggurat.

Daniel and Teal'c followed afterward, but Asheron and Sam lingered back to let Jabaroth get ahead.

"Can I kill him?" he asked, only half-joking.

"No," she answered firmly, squeezing his hand once. "And Malek won't let you anyway."

"I didn't like him thirty years ago," Asheron muttered, glaring at the priest's back.

She couldn't help laughing. He turned to look at her in surprise, a little hurt in his face. She kept his hand for reassurance, but meant her words. "Asheron, weren't you the one who said we were here for a mission, not to relive the past? I know it's hard for you, with bad memories staring you in the face everywhere we go, but try to focus on the mission. We're here to find Egeria's daughter to renew the Tok'ra. Then we'll leave and never come back."

"Is that a promise?" he asked, and there seemed to be a promise of his own in his gaze.

"It is," she confirmed, meaning more too.

She had learned there was no such thing as forever, but there was today, and today was a good promise to make. Today she had no intention of letting him go.

* * *

The archives were a series of vaulted chambers in the base of the ziggurat, lit by a string of electric lights and lanterns brought in from the outer room.

Sam sneezed, taking it all in. There were only a few sparse cobwebs, and surprisingly she saw little sign of vermin, despite the temple's abandonment. But it was going to take more than a few days to go through the records, even with help.

Bound books and rolled scrolls in boxes were shelved everywhere. There were even stone tablets stacked in the corners. She hoped the organization was less haphazard than it looked or the task might just be impossible.

Jabaroth faced Asheron. "What is it you search for, my lord?"

He picked his words with care, never completely lying but certainly shading the truth to fit in with Jabaroth's faith in his goddess.

"We believe that a long time ago, around two thousand years past, another goddess came to Inannar, through the gate to heaven."

"There are no goddesses but Ishtar," Jabaroth stated flatly. "What you seek does not exist."

Noting Asheron's clenched jaw, Sam nudged Daniel, who spoke up. "There are many lesser gods in Ishtar's service. I'm sure you must have seen at least one of them when she was here last."

"Yes," Asheron put in. "You must remember Gildaruk, with the black hair and eyes?"

Sam suspected that it was the identity taken by Malek and his previous host, since the name had come so quickly to him.

At the priest's nod, Daniel continued. "Well, this goddess was one of those. She was called Egeria. She might also be called the lady of the flowing spring, or goddess of the fountains, or something similar. She brought her daughter here to shelter under Ishtar's protection from a very powerful enemy, named Ra. We're trying to find out what happened to them."

Jabaroth frowned. "I can think of no such reference. But I am not a scholar of the texts from twenty centuries ago. Perhaps I should look in Markishan's index --" he bustled away, the archivist in him caught by the puzzle.

Sam rolled her eyes, reminded of Daniel. "Well, we knew it wasn't going to be easy. Teal'c and I are going upstairs. Have fun."

Then, because she could and because she wanted to, she pulled Asheron to her and kissed him. "I'll see you later," she murmured. "Don't kill him."

Asheron said nothing, just looked suitably bemused.

Seated at a table piled with crumbling scrolls, Daniel carefully unrolled another one. The archaeologist in him hated opening all of these ancient treasures without the proper care, but he knew it had to be done. He tried to console himself with the thought that most of this were paeans to a false goddess, of little intrinsic historical value, but it didn't really help when parts of a scroll fell off in his hand.

Jabaroth found them possible sources, Asheron carried them to the table and then he and Daniel went through them.

The Tok'ra and former king stood before a stack of thin, inscribed stone tablets and was going through them as negligently as dealing cards. None of the tablets were breaking, but Daniel winced every time one crashed down.

To distract himself from the imminent destruction, he asked, "What are those?"

"Records of offerings to the temple. Not old enough," Asheron answered, glancing at another tablet, and then tossing it aside. Still, he continued through the entire stack and when he was finished, used his symbiote-enhanced strength to carry and pile them against the wall.

Daniel was somewhat envious of his ability to so quickly glance at the contents, when he had to unroll each scroll to look at it. "It may take some time," he cautioned. "Sam and Teal'c may get lucky long before we're halfway through our possible sources."

"If O'Neill recalls you, I will remain and continue searching. As long as it takes."

Reluctantly, Daniel pointed out, "It occurred to me that Ishtar could have found the box a thousand years ago. Even if we find a clue to its hiding place, there may be nothing there anymore."

"I know," Asheron pulled a wooden box over and began stacking the scrolls within on his end of the table. "But I must hold onto the belief that she can be found. She is the only hope of continuing the Tok'ra race. I believe we are a people worth saving, even if O'Neill does not."

"That's not --" Daniel started in defense of his friend, but Asheron interrupted.

"No, I am sorry, Daniel. You are his friend, and I shouldn't put you in the position of defending his actions to me. I am grateful that you're here."

Daniel smiled a little, deciding that Asheron deserved some teasing. "But you're most glad that Sam's here, aren't you?"

Asheron's gaze was unperturbed, as he unrolled another scroll. "Well... yes, of course. I am very fortunate that she seems to return my feelings."

"I've never seen Sam like this before," Daniel said, putting down his own scroll. "We used to have to tease her to get her out of the lab, she was so focused on work. But now, it's like now she's made a decision to live her life, and she's going for it just as intently."

Asheron nodded. "That is true for me as well. Life as a Tok'ra was fighting the Goa'uld, nothing else. But now that there are no Tok'ra, it is somewhat ... liberating, to realize that there is time to discover that my heart still exists, even though I thought it buried long ago. Arvalle -- my wife --" he explained, with a shadow of sorrow, "would never have wanted me to hide myself in her memory. I've always known that -- but making myself believe it was something else."

Daniel thought of Sha're and shared an understanding look. "The two years I spent with Sha're were the best of my life. I couldn't let her go when she was gone either."

Asheron glanced at the scroll he held open only a few inches at the top, read the heading, and let it roll back up, putting it on the stack of discards. "I don't know -- maybe that's what we're doing here, refusing to let go, even when it's over."

"It's not over yet," Daniel said, trying to inject as much enthusiasm into it as he could. "We've barely started looking. We've got a lot of hay to sort, but eventually if there's a needle in here, we'll find it."

At Asheron's perplexed frown, Daniel just chuckled and refused to answer the inevitable question, "Why would anyone search for a needle in a pile of hay?"

* * *

Sam gave her report, looking into the camera on the MALP, with Teal'c behind her. But even if O'Neill could see her, she could only hear him. At the end, he asked, "So what you're saying is you have no idea how long this is going to take?"

She shrugged a little. "Sir, we could find it after lunch or never. There's just no way to know, at least until Daniel and Asheron find another clue."

O'Neill heaved a sigh. "All right. Your dad should be back from DC in two more days, Carter. We'll see where we're at then."

"Understood."

"How's his highness handling being home?" he asked, surprising her with the genuine concern, even as he sarcastically said the title..

She hoped her face wasn't giving too much away. "Um, okay. Malek's not been talking much. Oh, I wanted to show you -- " She brightened and dug in her pocket to hold up her coin. "Look, they put him on the money, sir."

"Cool. Bring me one back. But we've got to go, unless there's anything else?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, sir. We're fine."

"Okay, then. Forty-eight hours from now, we'll talk again. SGC out."

Switching off the radio, she watched the wormhole wink out without any signal left to keep it open.

Then she moved in front of the Stargate and turned around slowly to look through the vast empty spaces of the temple, musing aloud, "All right. I'm Egeria. It's two thousand years ago. Ishtar's not my friend, but she's also Ra's enemy, so I'm here to hide my daughter from him. I know Ishtar's not here, but she could come back at any moment. Her priests and Jaffa are here, and they see me arrive. So ... I pretend I'm one of her minor Goa'uld servants." She walked slowly down the steps, to meet Teal'c at the bottom. "And I'm carrying ... what? A present for Ishtar?" She thought aloud and then shook her head. "No, that can't be, because then Ishtar would be told about it and want to see it. But do I brazen it through, claim I'm under Ishtar's orders, or do I just bide my time until I can get away from the priests?"

"Egeria instructed her offspring to infiltrate the enemy in secret," Teal'c pointed out.

"All right," she nodded, going with it. "So I'm subtle. After I ditch my guards, where do I go? It would be foolish to hide my box too near the gate, too risky that someone would find it."

"Unless she had no other choice," Teal'c said. "We assume that Egeria came and left quietly, but that may not have been the case. All we know is that she came without any of the other Tok'ra."

She put her hands on her hips, and glared sourly down the dim aisle on the right side of the gate. "Okay, you're right. We just don't know enough about the situation to guess at her thinking. So let's see just what science has to say about it." She pulled out her energy scanner and turned it on. She had calibrated it to the field signature put out by the Goa'uld stasis jars back on Earth, but unfortunately she hadn't been kidding when she'd said it would have to be right on top of the box to find it. Maximum range was three meters, so searching the entire ziggurat with it would be roughly equivalent of cleaning the gateroom floor with a toothbrush: possible but extremely time consuming.

Luckily she had brought two toothbrushes. She handed the other scanner to Teal'c and demonstrated its use. Then, with slow methodical sweeps, they began to walk the aisles, paying close attention to the alcoves behind the massive statuary.

By lunchtime, they'd cleared about half of the main hall and Sam was ready for a break. Teal'c looked as indefatigable as ever, but he did not protest when she brought out the protein bars and tossed him one. She sat on the steps to the gate, ripped open her bar and munched thoughtfully.

"Y'know, I don't understand why Egeria would make this so hard. If she had time to go to some other planet and get them to write down the story, why didn't she tell her children that they had a sister?"

"Perhaps she did, but they did not survive," Teal'c suggested. "There were once many more Tok'ra. I would presume that many fell attempting to preserve her from Ra."

"Probably. I wish I knew. I wish --" she let her voice trail off, uncertain if she wanted to give voice to the thought.

"You wish?" Teal'c prodded delicately, with his polite manner of being willing to listen if she wanted him to.

"Sometimes I wish Jolinar hadn't died and had stayed with me," she said, half-defiantly, not willing to look at Teal'c and find that she had disgusted him. "There's things she knew that I want to know. Things that are just out of my reach, no matter how hard I try."

Teal'c cocked his head to one side to regard her. "I did not realize that Jolinar's loss still pained you. Or is it Malek's proximity that reminds you?"

"Both probably. I want him to tell me more about her. I knew they met, since I recognized him when we met at the Alpha Site." She flashed a grin, remembering. "By the way, I'm glad you didn't kill him."

Teal'c shook his head once. "I am not certain I could have." At her inquiring glance, he explained, "Have you seen the knife he carries in a wrist sheath? He was carrying it that day. Had he wished to, he could have killed me instead."

"Oh." Of course she had seen the knife, but she had thought it was just for this particular mission, not that he wore it all the time. "I didn't realize that. Well. I'm glad he didn't kill you either." She tucked the wrapper from lunch in her pack, took a drink of water from the canteen and stood. "Time to get back to it, I guess. I hope they're having better luck downstairs."

* * *

Lunchtime had come and gone, with neither Daniel nor Asheron noticing. Daniel continually tried to keep from getting absorbed in the history unfolding before him, while Asheron stayed preternaturally focused on searching through the volumes that Jabaroth found.

Mid-afternoon, Daniel was reading through a chronicle, and had to rub his eyes and go back to an entry as he realized what he was reading. "Here. This might be it." Asheron dropped the scroll he was perusing to listen. On the other side of the room, Jabaroth also turned to hear. Daniel quoted, "'On this day, we welcomed a visitor through the gate of the heavens. She carried a great gift for the goddess.'"

"What else?" Asheron asked eagerly.

Daniel flipped a few pages looking for further references, then turned back. "There's nothing more here."

"What year was it?" Asheron asked.

Daniel shook his head. "I don't know. Some priest kept a daily chronicle of events. It's mostly terribly dull stuff. I almost missed this. I'll need to date it by internal evidence." Which would be difficult, since Daniel had only the vaguest idea of Naritanian ancient history.

"No, let Jabaroth do that," Asheron suggested and waved the priest forward to take the bound pages of scraped hides. "We need to keep looking. We cannot even be sure that this visit _was _Egeria, and not Nurrti or Morrigan, seeking to curry favor with Ishtar."

Daniel knew perfectly well -- better than Asheron -- that what he had read might not be relevant. Yet it was still somewhat disheartening to have his discovery so coolly dismissed. He sighed. "Right."

Jabaroth bowed slightly as he came up to the Tok'ra's side. "Yes, my lord, it would be my honor to do the bidding of her Glory's servant."

Asheron opened his mouth, an irritated look on his face, but just shoved the book at him. "Yes, you do that."

He glared at Jabaroth's back, as the priest took the book to a small table piled with their reference works.

Softly, Daniel told him, "He's provoking you."

"It's working." His head dropped and when he looked up, his eyes flashed briefly to give Daniel warning that Malek was now in control, even though his voice didn't change. "I will continue with this pile of scrolls. Perhaps one of us will be fortunate again."

Several hours of fruitless searching passed, with only a few words spoken.

Jabaroth returned. "My lord, I am sorry. The chronicle contains a reference to the Battle of Azikhard."

Malek explained as an aside to Daniel, "The battle which separated Kantar province into a separate country. Five hundred years too late for our purposes."

For some reason, the news seemed to make Daniel suddenly realize his tiredness. He took off his glasses and rubbed at eyes strained by inadequate light. Still he pressed on, too interested in what he was doing to stop. But finally even Malek had had enough and stood up, stretching out his back with a groan. "Time to take a break, my friend. I am certain you need food."

"Water," Daniel corrected and coughed. "I have dust in my throat. Then coffee."

Malek wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I have no understanding what the Tau'ri see in such a drink."

"I've never seen much point in tea," Daniel retorted, slinging the strap of his bag over his head. "Come on, let's go see how Sam and Teal'c have been getting along."

Malek fixed Jabaroth with an unfriendly stare. "I was told that there would be food and bedding for you in the main gatehouse. You will meet us back here, tomorrow morning, one hour after sunrise."

Jabaroth gave him an odd look, then bowed. "As you wish."

On the stairs to the upper levels of the temple, and through narrow winding corridors -- a route Malek seemed to know without thinking about it -- Daniel asked, "So how are you coping?"

"Well enough. The shock has lifted. I grieve for my kindred, but we foresaw our end long ago. This moment does not come entirely by surprise. Yet the chance to try again with Egeria's daughter is one I will not relinquish."

"Try again?" Daniel repeated curiously.

"We failed in our mission," Malek responded. "The Tok'ra fell into complacent habits, seeking to preserve stability and ourselves, not the fall of the Goa'uld. For all our long lives we learned only fear and distrust." He paused and then added, with a flash of humor, "I must admit I was one of those. But Asheron was too strong a personality to deny. I would like to teach the queen what I have learned."

"Hopefully we'll find her."

They emerged through a doorway into one of the aisles of the great hall, and went to meet Sam and Teal'c, who had already set up a camp of sorts with a sterno stove heating a pan of water.

The four shared their combined lack of news and after eating a basic dinner, turned into their bed rolls.

Sam and Asheron did not share, but her awareness of his presence was so acute that she woke up, knowing when he left his blankets.

By the dim moonlight coming through the high slits she could see that he was standing beside the DHD. And she knew by his stance that Malek was the one standing there.

Tiptoeing across the stone in her bare feet, she slid her arm through his. "Don't you ever sleep?" she whispered.

"We need less than unblended beings," he murmured, with Tok'ra modulation but barely audible even to her. "Do you remember at the Alpha Site, when Selmak and I performed the funeral rite?"

"Of course. I thought it was lovely."

"Would you stand with me when I say the words?" he asked hesitantly. "There was no way to do it on the planet where they died, but I want -- I need to do something for them."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Sure."

From behind them, Teal'c's deep voice was not loud but carried in the silence, "If you desire to activate the Stargate, do not refrain on our account. DanielJackson and I will join you in mourning the loss of your comrades."

She turned to see Daniel and Teal'c awake and watching.

Malek bowed his head. "Thank you." He faced the empty Stargate and raised his voice. " _A reikh tri'ac te khekh. Takhmal a reik ti'ac. _" Then he pressed seven glyphs on the DHD and activated the gate. The address was unfamiliar to Sam, but she presumed that it was the address of the world where the Tok'ra had fallen.

The wormhole activated, washing the inside of the Temple with bright glittering light and then settling to an underwater-like glow, variable waves passing across their faces and shining briefly in their eyes.

Warm silence filled the temple for a few minutes, lingering even after the wormhole flickered and was gone.


	7. The Tunnel of the Stars

The following day passed much like the first. Sam and Teal'c finished scanning the main hall, and moved onto the surrounding narrow corridors.

Meanwhile, several levels below, Daniel, Asheron, and Jabaroth continued to search the archives, looking through as many of the ancient texts that they could find.

And every time Jabaroth found something and brought it to Asheron, he said something like, "The Radiant One has favored me by finding this."

Finally, Asheron simply couldn't take it anymore and he turned to glare at Jabaroth. "Someone told you she's dead, right?"

With perfect faith, Jabaroth replied, "A goddess cannot die."

Asheron stood and slapped his hands on the table. "She wasn't a goddess. She was an alien inside a human host with enough advanced technology to make her powerful. She was no goddess and she certainly did die."

"Ishtar the Radiant will not approve of you speaking this way, my lord. She called you her beloved --"

"I was her _slave_," Asheron grabbed Jabaroth and slammed him against the nearest stone wall. Pushing his face very close, he whispered harshly, "I cut her throat when we were in bed, priest. She's dead, and she is never coming back."

Daniel was shocked, not just by the words, but by the savage hate in Asheron's face. By the time Daniel recovered and started to move forward to try to separate them, Asheron had shoved the old man away and was gone.

"Are you all right?" Daniel asked, as Jabaroth rubbed at his throat, watching after Asheron.

"So it's true," he whispered. Daniel's hope that Jabaroth understood were dashed by the priest's next words. "I heard the stories that he turned against her, that he tried to overthrow his own goddess, the fountain of all life on Inannar. But I didn't want to believe that our king could do such a thing."

Daniel struggled how to explain, since he knew they still needed Jabaroth. The priest could completely sabotage their efforts if he wanted. "She tortured him, Jabaroth. She murdered his wife before his eyes. Isn't it natural that you would come to hate the one who hurts you?"

"But she gave him immortality!" Jabaroth said in bewilderment. "I see him, as unchanged as the day they left, and I know. How could he turn against someone who gave him that?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, it wasn't her gift, it came from someone else." But the uncomprehending look was not encouraging. Daniel sighed. "I know it's hard to understand. A lot has happened in the last thirty years. But it doesn't really matter -- as soon as we find what we're looking for, we're all leaving, including Asheron. All right?"

Jabaroth nodded, and Daniel hoped that meant the priest was at least thinking about what he'd said.

Later, up in the gate hall, Daniel joined the other three around the lamp and sterno stove, where they were sitting on their blankets. "Well, that was fun."

Asheron just grimaced and sipped at his tea.

"What's this?" Sam asked in concern. "What happened?"

"I lost my temper," Asheron admitted. "Jabaroth must be the last person in all Inannar who still has faith in Ishtar. Two days of him was too much. So I pushed him against the wall and told him she was dead."

"And Malek didn't stop you?" Sam asked in surprise.

"He does not steal control, Sam. Unless our life is endangered," he amended. "But he was also angry."

Daniel shook his head. "I hope that he's not going to start sabotaging us. Without his help we may never find what we need."

Asheron pulled up his knees and rested his hands on them. "Malek and I have been thinking. Maybe our plan is wrong -- you two wandering through the temple," he indicated Sam and Teal'c with a wave of his fingers, "and Daniel and I buried in the archives. It shouldn't be this difficult."

Sam nodded. "That's what I was saying yesterday. Egeria had to know that she might not be able to come herself. That's why she was hiding the jar in the first place."

"Was there any more writing on the tablet?" Teal'c asked. "Perhaps further directions?"

Daniel poured water into his instant coffee and stirred it. "No. Only what Asheron read in the briefing: "through the lake of the moon, the tunnel of the stars, and to the place of Ishtar's radiance." The back was blank."

"Maybe there's another tablet," Sam suggested. "We could go to P3X873 ourselves."

No one seemed very thrilled by the idea, and silence descended.

"This is my fault," Asheron murmured, and buried his head in his arms.

"How do you come up with that?" Sam demanded.

He lifted his head, but his gaze was distant. "If I hadn't kept my past so secret Deineri would have known it. When Egeria blended with her that last day she would have learned it too. Even just my name -- it's derived from Ishtar -- that might have been enough to remind her."

"Maybe," Sam rolled her eyes and continued tartly, "And maybe if Egeria had just _told _someone her daughter was here, the Tok'ra could have found her a thousand years ago." She wrapped one hand around his shoulder and leaned her head against it. "Asheron, you did what you had to do. I know you have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility, but honestly, playing these 'what if' games just hurts you. You can't change what's happened."

"No," he agreed and got to his feet. "I can't, but I -- " Abruptly, he stopped and turned to peer into the darkness of one of the aisles. The other three also turned, and Teal'c drew his zat.

But there was silence in the great hall, and after a few minutes, Sam whispered, "What is it?"

He answered, frowning faintly and still looking down the aisle, "There was a sound." But after a moment, he turned back around. "I hear nothing more. Perhaps it was a rat."

Teal'c deactivated his zat and put it back on his belt, and they all relaxed.

Asheron wandered around the gate platform and out of sight. Daniel and Sam shared a glance, and she shrugged.

* * *

He stepped over the transport rings embedded in the floor and stood in the middle, imagining the rings rising up around him as they had in the past. So many times, he had stood here to be taken to Ishtar. Why was everything in this place a bad memory?

_These rings also brought you to me,_ Malek reminded him quietly. _They brought you to Sam. Is that so bad?_

_Of course not. Without you, I wouldn't exist. You helped a beast remember he was a man._

_You were never a beast,_ Malek said with infinite gentleness. _You did what you had to do to survive a monster. I know, Asheron, because I was there. And I regret fiercely that I could spare you none of it. But in the end, you had the victory, because Ishtar died and you did not._

_It feels very little like a victory,_ Asheron said and then sighed. _But I know you're right. These are just transport rings, like any others we've used in the past thirty years, not symbols of the past._

He started to step outside the rings, but checked his foot, struck by a thought. _Symbols.... Malek, would you describe the transport rings as a 'tunnel of the stars'?_

Malek caught his rising excitement. _You think that --_ But they needed no conscious thoughts exchanged now, sharing the idea as one.

"Sam!" Asheron shouted. "Daniel, Teal'c -- come here! I think I have the answer."

All three rushed around the gate platform. It took only Daniel seeing him standing in the middle of the transport rings to understand. "The 'tunnel of the stars' -- it's not the Stargate, it's the transport rings."

"So then if the 'place of Ishtar's radiance' isn't the planet, where is it?" Sam asked.

"It is the planet. But it is also the shrine," Asheron answered, moving quickly to the controls, on fire with his new idea. They all automatically moved to the center of the rings. "At the top of the ziggurat."

He set the controls and stood next to Sam. The rings rose up, whisking them out of the great hall --

* * *

.

And into the shrine.

Narrow windows of colored glass let in the late afternoon sunlight, causing a warm glow to fall upon the tiled floor and the alabaster statue of Ishtar on an ornately carved pedestal in the center of the room. She was naked, with her hair swirling about her body in artistically sculpted waves.

Sam turned to take it all in. The room, like the great hall below, was octagonal. Faded red velvet drapes hung down the walls on either side of niches, in which smaller versions of the same statute, but in bronze or gold, stood. There was no obvious stasis jar, but then, she hadn't expected it to be easy to find. She stepped away from the rings, as did the others, ready to start looking. If it was too difficult, she would return below to fetch the scanner.

Hearing a strangled gasp to her left, where Asheron was, she turned to see what he had found. Instead, someone had found him.

"No!" she shouted.

Asheron had fallen to his knees, and his back curved in a painful arch, as brilliant golden light poured from his open mouth.

Jabaroth stood behind him, jabbing a Goa'uld pain trident into the Tok'ra's back. "Betrayer," he hissed. "Traitor, defiler!"

He pulled the trident away, and Asheron toppled backwards.

Sam reached for her zat, realizing too late that she'd left all her weapons at their camp in the main hall below. The only one armed was Teal'c, with his zat.

Unfortunately Jabaroth knew it too. He held the trident at Asheron's throat, and looked to Teal'c. "Throw the zat'nik'tel to the floor and kick it to me, Jaffa, or I will kill him."

Sam looked on, feeling helpless. "Teal'c," she could barely get the name past the lump of fear in her throat. Asheron was lying there, motionless, but his eyes were open, fixed on Jabaroth. The prongs of the trident visibly dug into his neck, ready to activate the power or simply stab right through his skin.

"I will do as you demand." Teal'c let the zat fall to the floor and kicked it lightly toward the priest.

But then Sam saw that Teal'c was not the only one armed. While Jabaroth had his eyes on Teal'c and the zat, Asheron twitched his hand and the blade of his knife slid into view. With a practiced twist of the wrist, the knife slid out, until he was holding the handle.

Jabaroth let the zat go past, and it hit the wall behind him. He looked at SG-1 with a triumphant gleam. Sam jerked her gaze away from Asheron, not wanting to draw attention to him, but too late.

Jabaroth glanced down and saw the knife. Before Asheron could move, he activated the trident again.

Asheron's whole body flexed, trying to escape the pain firing every nerve. The knife fell from his hand, as he writhed against the floor. The priest stepped on the blade and slid it to join the zat. Only then did he relent, lifting the trident slightly away from Asheron's skin. But Sam could tell by his smile that it wasn't over. Panting for breath, Asheron glared at him, with his eyes hard and nearly black with rage.

"Don't you remember your punishments, _my lord_?" Jabaroth asked in a vile, silky voice. "I do. I remember how many times she had to teach you obedience. Again and again because you never _learned_. Chains, poison, fire... there were so many. You were always so willful, except when you crawled, begging to give her pleasure..."

Asheron blanched, his hands balling into fists against the stone floor. "You will die, Jabaroth," he hissed. "I swear by Egeria, I will have your blood on my blade, and you can share your goddess' fate in hell."

"Not today, traitor." And the priest activated the trident again, pinning his chest.

Asheron strained, energy pouring out of his mouth and eyes, silently screaming. To Sam, it seemed to go on forever. Jabaroth didn't relent, didn't stop, even when the Tok'ra started to convulse, his arms, legs and head striking the marble floor in random frenzy.

"Stop it!" the cry tore free from Sam's throat. "Stop it, you'll kill him!"

Jabaroth didn't even look at her. "You may be his whore, but he belongs to Her Radiance Ishtar. She wants him punished."

In his usual calm voice, Teal'c said, "She will be angry if he dies."

That made the priest pause, and he withdrew the prongs enough to deactivate them. Asheron fell limp against the floor and made no sound. Sam watched his chest anxiously, waiting for movement. But there was none.

"He's not breathing," her voice shook. "Please, _please _let me go to him."

"Fine. No tricks," Jabaroth cautioned and moved back to pick up the zat and pointed it at her. "You two, stay where you are. If you come nearer, I'll kill her."

Sam paid little attention, rushing forward to throw herself to her knees at Asheron's side. She touched his neck to search for a pulse. "Please, Asheron, Malek," she murmured. "Come on. Come back to me."

For one long interminable moment, there was nothing, and then she felt a flutter under her fingertips. "Thank God. He's still alive." But still not breathing.

Even as she started to lean forward to give some rescue breaths, he gasped and started gulping air as if he'd just been underwater.

His eyes opened, glazed and full of pain.

She took his hand. "Hey, Asheron. Are you all right?"

He blinked twice and focused on her face. "We're not in sync yet," he muttered. She inwardly winced, wondering if getting stuck with the trident was worse when hosting a symbiote. Trust the Goa'uld to invent ways to torture each other.

Asheron struggled to sit up, a difficult process even with her help. His body didn't seem to want to listen to him, twitching and jerking involuntarily. His skin had a scary grey tinge to it, and he was squinting against the brightness of the lights as if he had a migraine. He was not well, and she feared that another session with the pain stick would kill him. Worse, she suspected only one shot with the zat might do it too, at least until Malek repaired the damage to their nervous system.

But he still tried to smile at her in reassurance. "We'll be fine, Sam."

She noticed that at least he was honest enough to admit that he and Malek were not fine right then. She would never have believed it anyway -- not while he was leaning on her so heavily and she could feel his hands shaking on her arm.

But he was alive and sitting up, so she turned a little of her attention outward to see what her teammates were doing.

"So now what?" Daniel demanded of Jabaroth. "You have the weapons. What do you want?"

"There's something in here that you want. Something you plan to use to help your pretender usurp Her Radiance. Find it," Jabaroth barked.

Daniel hesitated, glancing at Asheron.

"I'll kill her," Jabaroth threatened. "She means nothing to Ishtar."

"Do as he says," Asheron said. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Daniel and Teal'c did as he requested, and began the search.

Sam watched them, as they started to look behind the curtains, raising clouds of dust, and in the niches, searching for secret panels or disguised stasis boxes behind the small statues.

Only a few minutes passed until Asheron stopped trembling, and he seemed more in possession of himself when he looked at her. His grip loosened and he took back most of his own weight. He slid a few inches to the left, hiding the movement from Jabaroth behind Sam's body between them. She wondered what he was doing, then realized he was trying to position himself for a grab at the knife. She shifted her weight to her other foot, giving him a little more room to slide closer.

But they needed Jabaroth distracted or it would never work. Jabaroth had stepped away from the knife in order to watch Daniel and Teal'c and to cover the two of them with the zat, but the blade was still six feet away. Asheron would have to reach it and presumably throw it, before the priest could fire an activated zat.

Abruptly Asheron's grip tightened again on her arm and he slumped, nearly knocking her over. She barely caught him and felt her heart seize with panic. "Asheron!"

While he was draped across her, he murmured quickly in her ear, "Behind the fish." Then he straightened. "I'm fine," he insisted loudly. "Just a little dizzy."

She stared at him, before she understood what he had done. The big faker. She swatted his knee, and was only partly joking when she chided, "Don't scare me like that. I thought you were dying."

Jabaroth was scrutinizing them suspiciously, but then took his gaze away to check on Daniel and Teal'c. "Still as weak as I remember," he murmured, with a smirk.

To her surprise, Asheron smiled ever so slightly, a very dangerous look that promised bloodshed and violence. "I always pay my debts, priest."

After the exchange, she looked at the central statue of Ishtar, wondering what fish he was talking about. Then she saw it. The massive grey stone pedestal was intricately carved with bas-relief flowers and vines all around, latticed around central decorative hubs as big as dinner plates. Each hub was a different design -- some were a single flower, others an animal shape. Only one was two fish, curled together in a yin-yang-type symbol.

She had to hide a smile. Fish represented water, the aspect of Egeria as goddess of the fountains, and the two fish entwined represented her belief of the host and symbiote blended together in harmony.

From this distance, she couldn't tell if the symbol was part of the jar itself, perhaps the lid, or if it could be removed for a hiding place behind it. But she had no doubt that Asheron and Malek were right. The stasis jar was there.

"Where is it?" Jabaroth demanded impatiently. She flinched, for a second wondering wildly if he had read her thoughts.

"We don't know what we're looking for," Daniel snapped. "We don't even know if it still exists." He moved to the central statue, leaving Teal'c to continue searching the wall.

When Sam had first met him, Daniel would have said something when he reached the fish. Only a few years ago, he probably would have hesitated long enough to give it away.

But Daniel was a lot more canny these days. His hand passed right over the fish without pause, as he lightly traced his fingers across the surface of the pedestal.

But then he turned his head to look at them and met Sam's gaze. She knew he had recognized it too. "You guys okay?" he asked.

"Just keep looking, Daniel," Asheron instructed. "I'm sure we'll find it very soon. Right, Teal'c?"

The Jaffa glanced back over his shoulder. "Indeed."

And just that easily the plan was set into motion. They all knew that Jabaroth would destroy the jar and the queen inside it, if he got to it first. Therefore he could not be allowed to have it.

Teal'c had his back to the rest of the room, investigating a niche. "In fact, I believe I may have something. However, I require assistance from Daniel Jackson."

"May I?" Daniel asked Jabaroth, with O'Neill-like sarcasm.

Jabaroth jerked the zat in assent.

Teal'c stood almost perfectly opposite from where the knife lay, a position that Sam knew was not coincidence. She had no idea what Teal'c was going to do, but she knew he was getting ready for his diversion. She and Asheron both tensed.


	8. Princess of the Flowing Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Christopher Judge's deep voice intoning:
> 
> "And now ... the conclusion."

Teal'c and Daniel tugged at something within the niche, and she could hear Daniel grunt once with effort before he moved aside.

In one smooth graceful motion, Teal'c turned, hefted the foot-high gold statue of Ishtar, and threw it straight at Jabaroth. The priest saw it coming and fired his zat wildly, striking the small statute, the big statue, and Teal'c. The small statue missed Jabaroth by only a hand-span and crashed against the wall.

With less grace than Teal'c, Asheron sprang for his knife, rolled once, and came up on one knee with the knife in his hand. He waited a second for Jabaroth to stop moving and threw.

The knife struck the priest in the thigh. He shrieked and staggered, trying to turn the zat on Asheron.

But Sam was also in motion, launching herself at him in a fury. She tackled him to the floor, grabbing his arm in both of her hands. She only had to slam his hand against the floor twice for him to release the zat. "Let go! Let. It. Go!"

It was with great restraint on her part, she felt, that she fired the zat only once. Jabaroth fell satisfactorily unconscious. "Is Teal'c okay?" she called across to Daniel.

"I am well, ColonelCarter," Teal'c answered for himself, sitting up. "It was merely a glancing hit."

Asheron came up beside her, staring down at the unconscious former priest. "I missed," he said, answering her question of whether he'd intended to kill or injure Jabaroth.

She squeezed his shoulder in silent sympathy, knowing that Jabaroth's taunts and torture must have reminded him brutally of the past. There was something _lost _in his gaze, as though part of him was trapped in nightmare memories.

"Asheron? Shall we do what we came for?" she prompted gently, to try to recall him to the present.

He nodded wearily and scrubbed his fingers through his hair, before moving over to the statue. The others gathered behind him to watch.

He knelt before the fish symbol and poked a finger into one of the fish's eyes. The eye sank inward, and then with his finger in the hole, he turned the symbol first left, pulled it out an inch, and turned it again. The symbol popped out and he reverently laid it on the floor beside him. This revealed a small chamber, and within what looked like a small white box.

"Oh, no," he whispered.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"I can't hear it. The field is not active." He reached inside and pulled the box out gently, but with obvious dread in his expression.

It was really a box, Sam saw, about eighteen inches wide with sides of smooth, polished white stone and a lid with the same fish symbol carved in it. The whole thing looked untouched by time, as though Egeria had been the last to hold it.

Asheron turned it in his hands, inspecting it. "The seal is intact, and Malek senses her, so she still lives. But the stasis field has collapsed, probably from the zat'nik'tel fire. We have little time."

Grasping the cavorting fish of the lid, he lifted it slightly to peek inside and let out a soft gasp. "No. This cannot be."

Sam knelt beside him, a hand on his back. "What?"

"She is tiny. Not even a year old." He raised horror-struck eyes first to Teal'c in wild hope that was quickly dashed. "No, tretonin prevents you from having another primm'ta. She must take a host."

His eyes closed, and grief and pain moved across his face in a wave. Sam realized what was happening -- just as Kelmaa had done on Pangar, Malek was preparing to sacrifice himself so that the queen could live.

"No," she seized his arm. "Malek, no."

Asheron opened his eyes, sorrowful but resolute. "There is no other way. With the stasis field broken, we have no time to prepare a larva tank. She must take a host, since we have no Jaffa. And it must be me, since I can teach her about the Tok'ra."

Her gaze met his, and she did not relinquish his arm. She knew what she had to do. "No," she repeated. "Not you. Give her to me."

"Sam, are you sure?" Daniel asked, but she ignored him, keeping her attention on Asheron.

He tried to shrug off her hand. "Sam, I do not ask this of you."

"You're not asking, I'm offering." He was still resistant, so she added, "This isn't because of you and me. She needs Malek."

He shook his head, "Sam, no, you don't understand. A larva this young cannot possibly leave for a new host until she matures. In her case that is at least ten years away. I thank you for your offer, but --"

"Asheron, Malek, listen to me. I'll take her." She shifted her hands to take the box, and tugged against his grip. "I know what I'm doing. I think, somehow, I was always meant to be Tok'ra. I'm not afraid, and I know what I'm doing. Give her to me." She realized the other reason he didn't want her to do this, and she said softly, "I know that the blending could fail. We could both die. But we won't, Asheron, we won't."

He nodded jerkily, the look in his eyes anguished. "Sam --" But he let her take the stasis box from his fingers.

She leaned close to brush his lips with hers. "I love you," she whispered.

"And I you, Sam."

She smiled at him and basked in the warmth of his gaze. "Have faith." Then, while her courage level was still high, she set the lid aside and looked in. As Malek had said, the queen was very young, pale and slender and as long as her hand, with tiny little nubs for the fins. She was stirring, lifting her head toward the light.

Sam's stomach fluttered with instinctive revulsion against slimy, wormy things. The thought also occurred to her that she had no way to know if this larva was really Egeria's daughter or a Goa'uld.

But she reminded herself that a larva this young could not have full control of its host. If this was a mistake, she would be able to tell the two Tok'ra who could extract it.

She couldn't live with herself if she allowed the new Tok'ra queen to die, or let Malek die just because she was a little afraid.

Taking a deep breath, she reached down and gently lifted the larval queen out of the box. She wasn't slimy at all, but soft and smooth. She coiled on Sam's palm and seemed to wait patiently for Sam to bring her into position.

"She may be too young to do it gently," Asheron warned.

Sam nodded slightly, all her attention on the small creature resting on her hand. The tiny jaws opened and the head swayed back and forth slightly, reminding Sam of a baby bird.

With that thought, she smiled and then brought the larva up to her open mouth.

Perhaps proving that she was in fact Egeria's offspring, the little one had no difficulty in realizing what she was supposed to do. She surged into Sam's mouth and the back of her throat.

There was a brief sensation of gagging, that was swept away by pain. First the back of her throat, then her neck and head, and then her whole body seemed engulfed in fire.

Cool water spread out to douse the flames and coaxed Sam down into blissful dark.

* * *

Asheron wrapped his arms around Sam as she screamed and her hands beat wildly against him, seeking any sort of escape from the pain.

_Please don't let this be a mistake,_ he thought frantically, echoed by Malek. _Don't let her die._ He wished he had the healing device, but it was downstairs in his vest. So he just held her and prayed to any benevolent deities that might actually exist to spare Sam.

Just as abruptly as she had screamed, she fell limp and quiet, and he let out a relieved breath. This was a much better sign that the blending was proceeding properly.

He glanced up to see both Daniel and Teal'c kneeling on the other side of Sam's body, Daniel looking fearful and Teal'c very grave and a bit threatening. Asheron remembered the last time Teal'c had blamed him for losing someone he was close to, and the Tok'ra had no desire to repeat it.

"How is she?" Daniel asked.

"Quiet is favorable."

Daniel bent over Sam, anxious. "How long will this take?"

Shifting his grasp, so that her head was cradled in his lap and he could touch the side of her face with his hand, Asheron repeated what Malek told him, "Probably not long. She is healthy, so there is little physical damage for the symbiote to repair before blending. But her immaturity may require more time, since she has only instinct to guide her, not the knowledge of one fully mature. Malek isn't certain. Larval Goa'uld rarely take hosts, so there is little precedent."

Daniel settled into a cross-legged position. "So, we wait."

Asheron nodded. "We wait."

The wait was no more than five minutes. Sam stirred, her head moving restlessly against his legs.

"Sam? Sam, speak to me," he entreated. "Are you well? Is the little queen all right?"

She opened her eyes. It took her a moment to realize where she was and why his face was upside down, but then she smiled. "Her name is Turan."

Relief rushed through him, potent as a drug. He bent to kiss her forehead. "And you?"

"I'm okay. Throat's a little sore." She lifted a hand to rub her throat. "But it already feels better. I think she's fixing it." But a small frown crossed her forehead. "She said her name, but then she went away. I can feel her presence, but I can't reach her. She won't talk to me."

"Turan is essentially a baby, Sam," he explained. "She has the instincts, but few of the conscious memories or abilities of a symbiote. At this stage, she is more like a Jaffa primm'ta. Her presence will grant you the advantages of self-healing and reduced aging, but true conscious sharing will take time to develop."

At Malek's urging, he let the symbiote take over briefly. "More so than Selmak or I, Samantha, you will be the one who teaches Turan what she must know. In stasis for two thousand years, she will know nothing about the current Goa'uld, the Tau'ri, or the destruction of her kindred Tok'ra. You must help her understand and adapt."

"I will," she promised. Then she pushed herself up and found three pairs of hands eager to help her rise.

"Guys, I'm fine," she protested and fended off their hands with a chuckle. "Really, it's all very gallant of you, but I feel fine." Standing up on her own, she shifted her weight from foot to foot and then a grin spread across her face. "In fact, I feel great. Y'know all those little nagging aches? They're gone. I see now why Dad thought Selmak was so wonderful."

Daniel said in a quiet voice, "Not to put a damper on things, Sam, but you know Jack is _not _going to think this is wonderful."

Her excitement faded and she bit her lip. "No." She took a deep breath and let it out unsteadily. "He's not going to be happy, is he?"

Asheron kept his mouth shut, but he certainly agreed. O'Neill had _never _liked the Tok'ra, and his experience with Kanan had not helped matters. Finding out that one of his favored people had become one was not going to be pleasant.

She glanced over at him and straightened, a look of resolution on her face. "He'll just have to deal with it. There's nothing he can do or say that can change it anyway."

Asheron hoped that was true. And he hoped even more fervently that Sam would not come to regret her hasty decision. By the flicker of doubt he saw in her eyes, she was hoping the same thing.

She held out a hand to help him stand, which he took. Though Malek was handling the worst of the after-effects of the sha'nik prongs, he was still light-headed and the tremors had come back in his hands.

She could feel them too, and frowned in concern. "Asheron?"

"It will take only a little more time," he reassured her.

Sam found a small smile for him and squeezed his hand. "It's probably a good thing you didn't take Turan after all, isn't it?" she asked softly.

He nodded once. But his reasons had very little to do with a difficult blending in a nerve-damaged host, and much more to do with the loss of Malek. Some losses could be endured if necessary, but never overcome.

_I will not leave you,_ Malek reassured him. His love and support helped soothe Asheron's jangled and raw emotions into something a little closer to normal.

After Daniel and Teal'c were also standing, Sam glanced at the still unconscious priest and then to Asheron. "Do you want your knife back? I can bandage him up."

He thought about it and shook his head once. "No. His goddess died on that blade -- it seems fitting that he keep it."

Turan was safely found and Sam was well. But still he looked around the shrine, and felt that his mission here was unfinished.

He sensed Malek's puzzlement. _We have done what we came here to do. What more is there?_

_I feel... unclean, remembering all that happened here,_ he admitted. _I just want to make it go away._

He picked up the zat'nik'tel.

Teal'c seemed to understand what he intended. He pulled Jabaroth out of the way by his ankles and gathered his two friends within the rings.

Malek was silent as his host stared at the statue of Ishtar. It was a good likeness, unnervingly lifelike though monochromatic. Asheron purposefully remembered everything she had done -- not the parts that haunted his nightmares of the burning of his city or the deaths of his wife and child, but what she had done to him, buried in the darkest recesses of his memory in places where even Malek didn't go.

But his symbiote knew anyway, because he had been there for much of it. And his presence was a steady support, as Asheron deliberately unlocked those memories and lifted them out into the light. He remembered dying, waking, and endless days of torment. He remembered her malicious laughter and purring voice. He remembered her bed and the feel of her nails on his skin.

Focusing on her face, he remembered one last image: the total surprise in her expression as he pulled the knife across her neck.

And he let them all go, firing smoothly and deliberately at the statue, again and again, until blue lightning skittered across the surface

The statue of Ishtar exploded, pieces shattering against the wall, hurled there by the unleashed force.

He let out a long breath and handed the zat back to Teal'c. "Thank you." Teal'c inclined his head.

_Feeling better?_ Malek asked solicitously.

_Actually, yes._ He felt as though a great weight had lifted off him and for the first time since coming back to Inannar he could breathe freely again.

"Are you okay?" Sam took his hand as he joined her within the transport rings.

"Let's go home." He smiled at her and decided that something more was needed to alleviate the concern lingering in her eyes. "As your father would say, 'let's blow this pop stand.'"

As he'd hoped, it made her laugh.

The transport rings rose up to take them back to the main hall, where the Stargate waited to carry them to Earth.

With Sam and Turan at his side, it felt very much like he was finally going home.

_fin._

* * *

Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcome.

This story is continued in _The Road To Tartarus_.

  
\- Lizardbeth, originally posted 2004 


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